After my last post, where I commented on my fear around being bipolar in public, a discussion came about regarding attitudes, and how I’m the same as everyone else. Well, I beg to disagree. I’m crazy. And the implications of that are undeniable.

Here I am. Writing. In public. About being crazy. Here I am. Being crazy. In public. Under scrutiny. I’ve been writing about being bipolar for seven years now, in a very closed, anonymous environment. People didn’t know my name, or see my face. By design. Anonymity has a way of allowing the truth to flourish.

Hi, I'm Natasha Tracy, a 30-something writer living on an island in the Pacific Northwest and the author of the Bipolar Burble. I have leaped from planes, helicopters, and cliffs trusting nothing but nylon and canvas to save my life. I have worked for many tech companies including the biggest boy on the block. I have visited twelve different countries, have a bachelor’s degree in computer science and I think a law should be passed preventing Apple from naming anything else beginning with the letter "i." And I have bipolar disorder.

Hi, I'm Natasha Tracy, a 30-something writer living on an island in the Pacific Northwest and the author of the Bipolar Burble. I have leapt from planes, helicopters and cliffs trusting nothing but nylon and canvas to save my life. I have worked for many tech companies including the biggest boy on the block. I have visited twelve different countries, have a bachelor’s degree in computer science and I think a law should be passed preventing Apple from naming anything else beginning with the letter "i." And I have bipolar disorder.