I was kinda messed up as a child. Around the age of ten I became obsessed with murder, death, blood, and other fun topics. It coincided with my first bout of (undiagnosed) depression. I drew pictures that disturbed my teachers but not my parents, who were more concerned about appearances than anything else. I was also a very angry child who had few outlets for that anger, so I think that contributed to my problems as much as being harshly treated by my mother. I had "up" periods when everything was great, but I also was highly irritable and flew into rages at any provocation.

Looking back, I'm pretty sure I've been bipolar for most, if not all, of my life. I didn't find out for sure until I was 53. That was at least 43 years of confusion and unhappiness that might have been fixable, if not curable. Sometimes it makes me angry that I suffered unnecessarily because my parents would not get me mental health care.