Shame has always been a part of my life as a result of the way I was brought up. I mean, everything was my fault---the fact that it was 1958 and abortion wasn't legal then, the fact that I was loud and boisterous and not the model child my sister was, the fact that I was human and did the stupid things kids do.

Now, logically, I KNOW it's not my "fault" that I'm bipolar. It's not even my fault that my oldest son is bipolar, too. But I hate being weak and needing help---it's why I've long resisted going into psychiatric care---and even though my parents are long gone, I think sometimes how embarrassed they would have been by a daughter with mental illness. After all, 'decent' families don't have those problems.......