When I'm hypomanic, I get very very happy and love everyone and everything. And I make sure to tell them how much I love them . I talk to everyone about everything and can't stop. In college I would be so silly and goofy, I would dress up in costumes and have tea parties on the chapel roof.

When I wasn't on citalopram and hypomanic, I was mean. God awful, horribly mean and angry.

I'd say awful things to my stepsons and my husband. I'd send food back at restaurants because it wasn't quite right constantly.

My worst? One time I exploded at a church usher when we were visiting because there were not enough bulletins. It was Easter Sunday, and I told him it was his job to have others share bulletins and he was a horrible usher. I was so ashamed later. I try my best to forget these things, and hope that everyone else forgets them.

Or maybe it was the time I told my stepsons that I wished they would go back to their mother, that I didn't want them here.

Or maybe when I tried to jump out of a moving car and ended up in a snow bank in single digits weather without my phone.

I am so ashamed of these times. I didn't realize that it was probably my illness. Sometimes I wonder even now. But I'm so different. And once for a couple of weeks I forgot to put my citalopram in my med box and didn't take it. I was so angry and agitated and confused as to why my mood had changed until I figured out the citalopram.