I can think of a handful of things that have caused me trauma in my life, but being diagnosed with a chronic mental illness, bipolar disorder, is at the top of the charts. Those of us who live with a mental illness understand trauma on a deep level. We experienced trauma before our diagnosis, once finding out, and when working to become well again.

Mental illness is often connected to anxiety and its best bud insomnia. Often, it is believed to be a concurrent illness--connected to the primary diagnosis-- bipolar disorder for example. In my life it is hard to separate anxiety from insomnia. They invade my life together. Sometimes they hang around for a night or two and leave me in peace, and sometimes they signal something bigger. Relapse. An Example of Insomnia and Anxiety...

It's been a fantastic Fall so far in British Columbia, Canada, where I dwell. It's nice and sunny and has made me smile. And now it is pouring rain. And I like rain, the sound of it hitting my skylights, but I do not like the slow change in my mood that never seems to forget about me each year. And each year, I am somehow surprised that Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) has slowly inched its way into my life---again-- and each year, my mood seems to fall along with the leaves.

Picture this: A moment ago I was staring at the blank text field going "Ummm...Uhhh...Dammit!" And then I was coughing a rather nasty cough that lives deep inside my chest and scratches my throat. I slowly move my hand toward cough drops which have proved to be generally useless. I have a headache and realize the Tylenol is downstairs. I wonder if I can make it downstairs. A box of tissues sit beside me where my notebooks usually are. I look up "how long does a cold last?" Apparently, seven to ten days. I am on day three. The website recommends chicken soup. I hate soup. I then type in, fingers moving rather slowly: "depression related to the common cold" although this does not feel common --I think I might be dying. But I am sort of dramatic with these things... I'm done telling about how crappy I feel (insert sneeze here) but I have always felt I suffer from depression when I am sick. Am I alone in this?

We have heard this before: Mental Illness is an invisible disability. But I beg to differ. When my world crashes and burns, when the winter steals away my stability and I am hiding within the walls of my home and cannot figure out how to eat or sleep, I'm pretty sure my mental illness is not invisible. In fact, I feel like I am wearing a large sign: "I have bipolar disorder and am currently depressed. PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE." Mental illness disabilities aren't always invisible.

Do. Not. Apologize. For. Living. With. A. Mental Illness. Remember that brand Nike and their slogan "Just Do It!" ? Well, "Don't Do It!" Instead, explain it. "I've Met Someone New and Important, Shouldn't I explain?"

I sort of wanted to title this post, "Hormonal Changes Women Experience Throughout the Month Impact our Mental Illness"--AKA PMS. Now, I could not do this for a couple of reasons: That's a bit wordy and first and foremost I want men to read it too.

It's Not Fair That I Have a Mental Illness! Right. Not Fair. I get it! It sort of sucks. I get that you're feeling self-pity over having a mental illness. We have a couple of options here: get over the fact we have a mental illness and carry on with life or keep on feeling bad for ourselves. Should we continue to wallow in self-pity over having a mental illness? No.

Okay. Take a minute and think about it. What comes to mind? Immediately, I think of when I was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder. And then I recall the years that followed: a feeling of loneliness that never seemed to leave me. A feeling I still struggle with. Even as I write these words and with the understanding that those who read them probably do understand. But it's not that easy--it never is.

If you read enough of these blogs, you might know that I write what I feel. But this often involves a healthy mix of education and sarcasm. In line with my personality, I suppose. But this topic is different. Suicide lives in the darkest parts of my mind; places I cannot avoid but also want to remember. I want to remember losing my very best friend and my cousin to suicide. My favorite cousin. Maybe I should preface this by telling you it will be a bit raw. But suicide is raw. It hurts. And it hurts to write this.