All of my kids were grown when I was finally diagnosed at age 53. Not one of them was shocked by the news; only the oldest asked "Why are you seeing a psychiatrist, Mom?" when I first told them I was going.

Now the grandkids who are close to me (ages 8 and 6) are beginning to wonder about it, as they've heard snippets of conversation between their parents and me. They have one uncle called Crazy Chris, who has schizophrenia and does some really bizarre things when in the throes of his illness; they have a vague knowledge that Grandma has something wrong with her brain too, but nobody has sat down with them to explain what bipolar disorder is.

I've asked my daughter if I should do this. I want them to understand that I do have a mental illness, but I control it with medicine and I'm fine most of the time. They've rarely seen me in a mood episode, only that sometimes I'm irritable and sad, and other times I'm overly happy and loud. My daughter told me she'd rather put it off until they're a little older. I don't blame her, but OTOH these two boys are not stupid and they've noticed that I'm a bit of an odd duck.