I am not crazy.

This is a statement a lot of people say, and most of them would be right. For me, it is an affirmation of life, my goals, and how to live. Not Crazy.

I am bipolar.

In my case, I am rapid cycling and mildly affected. More importantly (to me), I am not medicated. Is this wise? I think so. My therapist and husband are the only two people outside of myself who get a say in how I am treated, and both of them agree that medication is not necessary, nor is it really recommended. When I say mildly affected, I do mean mildly.

Depression for me is a series of days, maybe as much as two weeks, where I do nothing around my house, barely make it to work, fake my way through work, and only attend to the most necessary of activities, such as bathing, eating, sleeping, and paying attention to my daughter and her needs. Every day is a long challenge, every moment presses upon the one before, and I barely hold onto the thought that this heaviness will pass.

Mania for me is a whirl of activity, anxiety, and potential productivity. I am slightly paranoid, mostly anxious, and unable to sit still. At my best, I can channel this energy into projects around my house and use the mania to accomplish things I cannot do at any other time. At my worst, this is a flurry of compulsions I can barely contain.

Most of my life is lived in a state between these two extremes. I have learned to cope through therapy and with the help of my husband and daughter. I have not considered suicide seriously since I was a teen, and I don't think I ever will. I feel that suicide is the ultimate selfish act and I strive to live a life where selfishness leads to healthy things. Death isn't so good for the health. My temper flairs more when I am closer to a manic state, but I have learned to control this. My temper is horrible when uncontrolled and I am very likely to hurt myself or others. The number one trigger for my temper is frustration, and knowing that helps me avoid outbursts.

I am a fantastic actor and liar.

I have to be. I work in retail and I have yet to meet the customer to actually cares about me. I am not at work to take my moods and show the world, but to service customers as best as I can. I have a strict code of conduct regarding work and have successfully fooled probably thousands of people into thinking I am perfectly normal. My coworkers seem to be aware that I am different from them, and my boss appears to know that I face a mental illness every day, but no one outside of my boss has guessed that I struggle with a mental illness. I have held my job for nearly 8 years now, and I am an assistant manager. It is imperative to my career that no one ever sees me struggle. So I can lie, without a flicker of guilt, about myself. I can act happy and cheerful when I am depressed and want to be lying in bed letting the world go on around me. I can act calm and collected when my mind is racing and my anxiety is high. I can be what I need to in order to maintain my job. This comes from strict disciplining of my outward emotions.

I won't say that I am perfect at this. It is embarrassing to me when there is a crack in my facade, but it happens. Just a week ago my boss was correcting me on something I had done wrong, and he was right. I nearly burst into tears. He wasn't mad, he wasn't yelling, and he wasn't accusing. It was a simple conversation where he quickly explained the part of the scenario I had gotten wrong, and how to react differently next time it happens. I completely agreed with him, and did not feel in anyway attacked by his approach. However, I was nearing the lowest point of my cycle, and the weight of performing poorly felt too heavy, and the tears started forming. Thankfully, my boss quickly let me go on break and collect myself.

I have a strict code of conduct for life, too. Because I know I am talented at pretending to be and feel what I am not and do not, I refuse to do this in private. When I am at home, I am what I am. I will not lie to a friend or family member at any point, about anything, and I will not act happy and normal when it is unnecessary.

I am a mother.

My daughter is 4 years old and the center of my universe. It is for her that I struggle to live without medications. I want her to grow up knowing me authentically. I want to watch her grow up and *feel* the things I should. Pride, Joy, Loss. When I am medicated (and I have been), feelings dissappear. I become a robot. This is unacceptable to me, especially towards my child. I want to enjoy the trials and tribulations of raising this wonderful little girl. I want to experience the extreme pride I have for her every day of her life. I do not want her to have to wonder if I care about her, about what she does, or about who she is. She will know.

I am not my mother.

This is important to me because I grew up with a medicated mother. And the medications really didn't work. My mother *is* crazy. In every sense of the word. She has an extreme personality dissociative disorder (read: multiple personality disorder), suffers from a myriad of physical AND mental problems, and is the most self-centered person I have every encountered. Her life did not work out the way she envisioned, and my siblings and I suffered for it. She was a stay at home mom who did not care to help us engage in life. She slept her way through my junior high and high school years, and she left my brother and I to raise our little sisters. She is manipulative, has a sense of entitlement beyond belief, and simply does not understand how life should be.

Please do not think that I have no compassion. I hurt for my mother every day. I wish I could help her. I WANT to help her. But until she can see how her life has affected the lives of all the people she has touched, until she can admit that she needs to listen to those who try to help her, until she can accept the fact that she is not the most important person in the world, I cannot be in her world. I live 1000 miles away, and that is not far enough. My daughter knows her, and I visit her once a year with my family, but I cannot help her, and I have to accept that.

I am a student.

I want to do something *more*. I want to make my mark on the world in ways I have barely begun to dream. I want to teach kids, train adults, and give something of myself to others. I want to use the skills I have in a productive way. I want to break free from the world I came from and explode into a new world. I want to be fantastic. And, most importantly, I want to take the journey to get there. I want to fail, I want to learn, and I want to succeed. I want to do so many things, and the first step is finishing my degree and pursuing the career of my choice. I honestly can't really say what that career is, but I know it is not retail management. And I know I will be teaching no matter where I end up. I love to see people learn and grow, so whatever I do, that must be a part of it. My current major is elementary education as I have a few ideas about a tutoring program for underprivileged kids. But I have a lot of interest in behavioral psychology as it is applied to the workforce, so organizational psychology might be something I switch to. Anyway I go, it begins with college. My next round of classes begin in a few weeks and I am excited to go back after summer break.

I am a wife.

I have been married for six years now, and I truly love my husband. There was a rough patch we are climbing out of and my love for my husband has deepened and grown as I have learned to understand him. My husband is my rock, my voice of reason, and my partner in life. There may have been a time when I wished for more from him, when I wished for something different, but taking a hard look at what I have, could have, and do not have, has made me really appreciate what I have. The could haves, the wants, they are unimportant and flimsy in comparison.

Which is not to say my husband is the most perfect person in the world. He isn't. And that is okay. He drives me crazy, frustrates the hell out of me, and is contrary as often as he is agreeable, but he is mine, and so I work with it. On the important things, we agree. That is what matters the most.

I am a fixer.

I can't begin to explain this one well. I have this intricate brain that works in ways no one could explain. First, I usually see every single side of an argument without much trouble. And I can agree with all of them, usually do. This is frustrating when applied to my husband and daughter, but less so with other people. I like to find middle ground, compromises, and ways of making other people happy. It pleases me when some suggestion I made improves the life of someone I know and they are able to grow from it. However, I cannot always do this.

It is not my place to fix people, and sometimes I want to or try to fix someone who does not want to be fixed. Sometimes I offer advice or suggestions without being asked first. And I am learning to reign this in. I do not wish to come across as pushy or bossy. And so I will see a situation and be frustrated that I cannot just go in and fix it. I want to fix my mom, I want to fix the strained relationship between my mom and dad. I want to fix the communication between my mom's sisters and my mom. I want to fix a few friends who are unhappy in their lives. I want to fix so much, but I cannot.

And truly, I need to focus on fixing myself.