I am angry today. Just sort of mad at the world. I am mad at my mental illness, and mad at having to find the energy every day to drag myself in to work and pretend I've got it all together and am rockin' along in my happy little life. I guess I'm having a pity party. I just feel alone in my reality. It is hard work being mentally ill. If we had cancer people would bring us flowers and give us sympathy for our illness. Instead we have to hide our illness and live in fear of being found out. I am scotch-taped together these days. I cry in the bathroom, in my office at work behind closed doors, in my car driving home. It seems it takes superhuman strength just to be...