My mother was never diagnosed, but looking back over her behaviors during the years I was growing up, I have no doubt whatsoever that she was bipolar. She self-medicated with alcohol and prescription drugs, but she had very drastic mood swings that she blamed on her menstrual cycle, and then later on menopause. She could be a lot of fun to hang out with, but those dark times when she was a cold-hearted witch or a blazing-hot screaming Mimi were NOT fun. And you always had to agree with her---if she told you the sky was purple, you'd damned well better say "Yep, it's purple all right" or the wrath of God would be unleashed.

I learned very early in life that I was terrified of anger....her anger in particular. This fear is something that plagues me to this day, even though she herself has been gone for many years and I have a lot of rage as part of my BP as well. So many times I wish now that she'd gotten help....so many times I wish she'd done it so I'd have had the courage to get diagnosed sooner. As it was, I didn't receive my dx until the age of 53. But, better late than never, right?