I love when reader's ask questions about anxiety.  I want to write about what you want to know. Anxiety symptoms and treatment can be very specific to the sufferer, but I will try to answer so that most readers who experience anxiety can take away something. I had two questions last week. Here is the first one:

I’ve been getting my mail in Cookoopantsatopolis for a very long time now, and the fact of the matter is, I like it here. The people are nice, you laugh a lot, it’s never boring, and, frankly, you have experiences unavailable elsewhere. Another thing. My fellow Cookoopantsatopolis-dwellers are special, they have been through astounding trials and voyages which have given them depth, soul, and character. Now, I don’t mean to suggest that Cookootoplians are better than square white bread eating mayonnaise-loving Johnny and Jane Lunchbuckets; but I wouldn’t stop you from saying so. I guess my point, assuming I have one, is that we all must struggle to know who we are, accept who we are, love who we are and enjoy being who we are. This goes double for Cookoolians who have had to endure harsh judgment not merely for what they do, but for their very being. I Just Want To Be Normal As you move through the various levels of recovery, you may begin to identify with “normal” people, you may even start to believe there is something desirable about being one of them. If left unchecked, this slippery slope will dump you on the doorstep of Squaresville, man – in peril of losing your identity altogether. Don’t let this happen to you! Be on the lookout for these warning signs.

During the bulk of my abusive marriage, I didn't realize how isolated I was, but I did recognize the fact that other families weren't like mine. The shame of not knowing how to fix my problems overwhelmed me, and the frustration of having no one to talk to hurled me into depression. The guilt of being ill-functioning for my children and husband kept me low. It was a devastating downward spiral that ended only after I realized I was not alone in my struggles. Perhaps my "aha moment" would have come more quickly if Band Back Together, the website created by Becky Sherrick Harks, was available to me then. Known as Aunt Becky to the Internet, Sherrick Harks created a website called bandbacktogether.com and invites everyone suffering from trauma, sickness, mental illness or abuse to share their story online [Note: As of right now, the website is hacked and not available, Sep. 29, 2017].

Sometimes I have trouble with nightmares and night terrors. Recently I had one that made me think about how spirituality can help or harm an individual with severe mental illness, such as borderline personality disorder (BPD).

There is a mental illness support group for almost every psychiatric disorder or abuse. As a person on the receiving end of verbal abuse for years, attending a support group propelled me forward exponentially and I encourage people to locate a support group and attend it. But sometimes, people are intimidated and do not attend. They desperately want the emotional support, but perhaps stepping outside of their comfort zone is too much when added on top of everything else they're experiencing.

I don’t remember most Christmases; they tend to blur together in a sea of turkey, denial and wrapping paper. But the Christmas of 1998 was different. That Christmas was the one just before I began medication. That was the one I spent lying on the couch with bandaged arms. Looking back 1998 should have been a good year for me. I had completed an 8-month work term for my university degree, I had some money for the first time in a long time and I went backpacking across Europe. But unfortunately, 1998 was the year that bipolar decided to attack full-force. I spent the end of 1998 slicing and dicing and sobbing and begging for mercy. From what, exactly, I have never been able to say, but from whatever was causing the pain whatever made it impossible to move from my mother’s couch as the activities of Christmas went on around me. But in spite of this I had no intention of seeing a doctor and I most especially had no intention of seeing a psychiatrist. Those people were nothing but pill-pushers, nothing but drug dealers with letters after their name. And everyone knew that depression wasn’t a real disease and that anyone with real strength of character could overcome mental anguish on their own – not with the crutch of pharmaceuticals.

I have been struggling to eat normally — whatever normal is — for several weeks. It's not that I have stopped eating altogether, because let's face it, even anorexics have to eat something. It's not even that I'm in starvation mode — yet. It has just become easier to skip breakfast, because hey, it is 10 a.m. before I think about it and it is only two hours away from lunch. Then lunchtime comes and I "forget" to eat until about 2 or 3 p.m. That's too close for dinner, so I might as well make lunch do for dinner, too. Still, I am eating and I am committed to recovery. I know that I was not healthy before and that I need to continue to eat healthy and maintain my weight. I know that skipping meals, especially breakfast, is not a good idea. I thought I was doing okay. Then I drank several glasses of wine last night.

I know it's difficult to say no to others, but your addiction recovery comes first. Wanting to help others is only natural when you see them going through what you are currently going through, or have gone through in the past. By nature, I believe a lot of people find it easier to take care of others versus themselves. I want to remind all recovery warriors, that you must take care of YOU first, and others second. Your addiction recovery comes first--always.

I just returned from a trip to Phoenix, Arizona, where for three days I've been on a whirlwind tour of interviews, meetings, and one community lecture, courtesy of Arizona Foundation for Behavioral Health (AFBH) and ASU's Center for Applied Behavioral Health Policy - all to tell our family story to those who will, we hope, be affected by it in some way.

The title of this post suggests that I am focusing exclusively on bipolar disorder and this might be true in content, but the symptoms and the experience described below are common within the spectrum of all chronic mental illness. It is a shared experience among those who are diagnosed--and not just with with bipolar disorder--highs and lows, in part, define mental illness.