Families. Ack Mine refused to accept that I was an alcoholic because "girls couldn't be," according to my aunt.

They finally accepted it, but even my mom denied there was a medical component. I just had "want" to stop.

Depression was not trusting god. My depressed mother died, bless her, still believing that I guess.

Had she lived to discover that I'm bipolar, I can't imagine the denial or anguish than would have brought down. No, I can't imagine her ever dealing with it. I don't think she would have come to the hospital.

If forced to choose by families, we must choose ourselves. But we should never, never be made to make that choice. Live is hard enough. When my mom died her family and I separated. It was necessary. I think if the people don't like each other, there's no reason for families to remain together.