Almost all the memories from those 3 summers are sweet. I think I am more thankful for those 3 years than I am for almost anything else in my life, except for my nieces. It was a time that I learned what I was supposed to do in life, when mental illness hadn't yet destroyed anything and I was very good at what I was doing (it was a special needs camp so there was a lot of caregiving involved. I surprised myself by not being afraid of anything medical and so I did a lot of complex caregiving). The last summer I was flying high but had no idea that I was anything but marvelous and the crash came before my pdoc saw it so I missed diagnosis by not telling him the full truth of how great I was that summer. I was so outgoing and daring and fun.......not my usual introverted person.

There is no time in my life that I felt so good and I can look at those years, even the manic one, and see what might have been if bipolar hadn't come and if it hadn't come in the form it did. I think those years were a gift, a chance to see life was good before it got even harder than it was growing up in the family from hell.