Try these words on: Mental illness, mentally ill, relapse,  psychiatry, psychiatrist, psychotropic medication, anti-psychotics, mania, depression, social isolation, side-effects, sickness, disease. How do these words feel applied to you as a person with a mental illness? I can tell you how they make me feel:  Awful, stigmatized, labeled. They make you feel alien. They make you feel alone. Unique in your illness. You might feel like you are the the brisk notes your psychiatrist jots down as you talk to her. You might wonder if those words, scribbled with medical jargon, define you as a person

Treating anxiety you have to teach yourself not to be dismissive, learn not to auto-pilot the waves of panic. Not everything's about 'getting over it'. It's about getting up today, not making yourself sicker. Or it's convincing yourself reality is somewhere stiller, softer, kinder than the one you suspect's lurking round the corner. Just reading the newspaper can cause a blood pressure spike, and sitting down to ‘relax’ I have to trust myself to cope. That's what you do.

"We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us." ~ Joseph Campbell I have struggled with anxiety and depression for weeks. Several mornings I stay in bed, huddled under my covers where it feels safe, until the very last possible moment. I think about the life I had before I developed anorexia. My husband and I were still together, sharing life and love, enjoying each other's company and spending time with family and friends.

This week, I encountered yet another insurance / psychiatric medication prescription snafu. Bob's old Seroquel prescription had run through its refills and I submitted a new prescription for his bipolar medication from his psychiatrist. Blue Cross Blue Shield refused to pay for it. Why? Because their monthly limit is 102 tablets. Bob's prescription for his psychiatric medication was written for 105. Yes--splitting hairs over Three. Pills.

Last week I wrote about how embarrassment can trigger clarity and ADHD hyperfocus. I also wrote about how trauma can cause the same reaction. These shocks to our system can lift most of us into a higher state of awareness. Think of how lucky you are to have ADHD. If you're like me, embarrassment--and hyperfocus--occurs weekly as I blunder about my life being embarrassed by my boneheaded actions. But how long does the hyperfocus last for you? Are you able to channel ADHD hyperfocus to move your life and projects forward, or is it just another strong emotion you experience then instantly forget as you Ohmigosh! iOS5 is available for download now? Clickity click, man!

Sometimes strong emotions like embarrassment can give an Adult with ADHD hyperfocus and clarity. Learning to take advantage of that clarity can turn ADHD from a downside into an upside. After all, think of all the opportunities you'll have to beclown yourself in life!

"If you need brain surgery it’s almost always a good idea to involve other people." Taz Mopula The first time I heard the term “self-medication” I laughed out loud. In searching for an analogy one thinks immediately of the old adage – the lawyer who defends himself has a fool for a client. But that’s when the stakes are low, going free or going to jail. How about when the stakes are high? Sanity versus insanity? Life versus death? Jean Paul Sartre, a very clever fellow, used to play Russian roulette because he was bored. Well, self-medication is like playing Russian roulette with one big difference, all the gun’s chambers contain live ammo. Self-medication – (the term itself is preposterous) - fits nicely into the insufferable arrogance and egotism of mania – as if to say – I can manage this little spot of bother myself with nothing more complicated than some garden-variety drugs. I remember it all too vividly – “throwing gasoline on a fire”.

Last night, Ben came home from an "Anonymous" meeting and shared with me that there had been an unexpected discussion about mental illness, and that (in his words) "about 90% of the people in the room admitted that they have one." I wanted to press for more details - you bet I did - but I've learned not to push the learning. The fact that he chose to tell me this much - without, of course, revealing names or details - seems like a good thing. Did he participate? Did he admit he has an illness, too? Did he feel supported in this group of peers? I didn't dare ask. But I did wonder.

Many times I've complained that my family doesn't really understand mental illness.  They don't see the difference between depression and being sad, and even those who visited me in the hospital separated my condition from the severity of my surroundings. As hard as I've tried to get my relations to understand my illness, it's even more difficult to get them to see the signs of severe depression in others.

Most people I know with a mental illness try very hard to get better. They look for sources of help, support and information. Most people I know don't sit around waiting for someone to save them. But then there are the people who do. There are the people who whine and complain that no one will help them and yet turn down help or refuse to look for it. There are the people who kvetch that there is no support available to them in spite of the fact that the world is drowning in helplines available 24-hours-a-day. In short, people think mental health services should be brought to them on a silver platter - and then be spoon-fed.