I have honestly been using my psychiatrist as a therapist. She helps a lot.

I thought I hid my mental illness from my kids. One of the saddest realizations I’ve made is that I didn’t. Hard to hide periods of despair or weeks filled with immense energy.

Before this past high, I was in a terrible depression. My 21 year old son sat with me telling me all of his favorite memories from his childhood that I gave him. He kept asking me if I remembered all of the trips and adventures. I tried to act perky and he just hugged me and cried. Actual tears. He said I gave him such a joyful life and that I was often so miserable. He said his only wish in his life is for me to be happy. I vowed I would. I cried for an hour after he left.

I guess I am to blame for my family’s lack of respect. Living with someone with mental illness is exhausting.