The Most Important Thing I've Done Is Survived; and Sometimes, I Even Live

When you battle depression, you know that often the best you can do is just get through the day. You may not be breaking any records, or busting through your to do list, or even showering. Some days, getting through the day is what matters most. If you lay your head down at night in order to be here tomorrow, you've accomplished the most important thing you can - you've survived.

For those who don't battle depression or chronic illness, I think this is a difficult concept to truly understand. For them, surviving is second nature. They don't have to think about it, wonder if it'll happen again tomorrow.  They don't go to bed at night with the sole accomplishment of still being here. Instead, they look at the things they haven't accomplished: the house needs to be cleaned, they need groceries, they have to do this or that chore or task. And don't get me wrong, my anxiety rails through all of that too. Repeatedly. But the thing is, if I weren't here, if I hadn't made it, it wouldn't matter one bit how clean or not the house was or how full the fridge was.

And so, I admit, that sometimes my priorities seem a little "messed up" to the observer. The house desperately needs to be cleaned and I'm planning a hike or a day trip or a drive to the beach or something of a similar fashion. Or I'm relaxing, listening to the rain or enjoying the sunshine on my face. Sometimes, I go for a drive simply to enjoy the warmth of the sun (streaming through my new panoramic sunroof!!), the open air, and the musc. And understandably, people probably feel, If you're going to be out on a drive, could you maybe stop and pick up xyz while you're at it, because you're running out?! And yes, I probably should. I probably need bread or beans or a replacement light bulb or something from CVS or whatever it is. And I may stop and pick it up (ok, usually just the CVS, big stores give me anxiety). But you know what I really need? I need to have these happy, sun and fresh air filled moments  to pull me through when I cycle back down. If not, I'm spending all of the times I actually feel ok filling obligations, only to slip back into depression without being able to remember what in life there is to truly enjoy.

And so I perhaps do not make a very good adult. I do not see the point of spending the majority of my time doing the mundane things that will never be my legacy. I'm not saying I'll live in a pigsty or starve, but I just simply don't get the need to have this all perfectly done, all the time. And maybe there's a compromise. Maybe I can run into Whole Foods once a week, spend 30 minutes tops  (I can honestly get all my shopping done in this time), and have had healthy meals all week. And when I am running out of TP, I can stop at CVS for 10 minutes max. No need fora full day dedicated to these things.

I realize this is frustrating for people in my life. I wish I was content to do the everyday adult life things. I really do. It would be so much easier on those around me. Not to mention I'd have a full fridge on a regular basis, and a cleaner house. I know it seems irresponsible. And I'm trying to find a balance, I really am. I'm not sure where that lies.

Maybe it's just me. And maybe it's the fact that I feel my time to actually feel alive is limited, since illness hits me so often. But I just don't think I'm going to lie on my deathbed wishing I'd done more chores. I do think, though, that if I stick to those "have to"s, that one day I'll look back and think, What did I do with my life? And moments of life can be so precious, that I can't imagine why I'd want to live that way.

Me in Ronda, Spain, after a sunrise hike. The ultimate in enjoying a good day!

Mental Health Pet Peeves

In the mental health community, we face a lot of stigma. Some of it is overt. People calling us crazy or mental or insane. People saying we're dangerous, violent. These people, while they frustrate the hell out of me, are sometimes easier for me to deal with. I pull out statistics about how those with mental health conditions are ten times more likely to be victims of a violent crime than perpetrators. I tell people how I run a business and work a part time job, have recently written a novel in my "spare time", and have served on numerous boards of directors, to name a few accomplishments. This tends to make people realize perhaps I'm not as "crazy" as they would like to think. Or they do, and I tell them where to shove and move along because they've decided to be closed minded and nothing I can say will change that, so they aren't worth my time. But the people that don't get what they're doing are the ones who really get to me. Because that is how stigma and ignorance disguises itself in a pretty little helpful bow, and continues to be perpetuated. Here are a few of my top mental health pet peeves.

•  "Just pray about it." Ok, first off, I've been black listed by the Catholic church for living in sin for the last umteen years (divorced, not annulled,etc etc) and quite frankly it pisses me off that I'm counted as much of a sinner as a murderer or a rapist simply because I left an unhealthy relationship. But all of this is besides the point BECAUSE MY ILLNESS IS NOT A SIN OR A PENANCE! I jokingly call it the gremlin in my head, but that's a joke. Because it's so ridiculous that a separate being would be actually possessing my brain that I can joke about it. Praying, if I were religious, might calm me. It might give me some sort of comfort. If I were religious. Which I am not. Now, to be clear, if you are religious and want to pray that I'm feeling better, by all means, go ahead. It's how you feel you can help, and I truly appreciate that you want to help in some way. I'm not telling you not to pray or believe, and I appreciate you doing what you can to help. Who knows, maybe it'll work and I'll become a believer again.  But please, don't tell me the only thing that I can do to help is pray. I respect that it's your thing, but it's not my thing. And I'm not looking for a miracle. 

• You're a pawn of the pharmaceutical/doctor industry. They're making you sicker so you buy the drugs and they get rich.  Ok first of all, did you witness the first 30 years of my life? Did you watch me at 2 years old in hypomanic episodes begging my parents "make it stop, make it stop." But I'm just fine off my meds?  How exactly do you, who is not in my head or my body, know that?  Let me set you straight: my meds, and the meds of so many others, are life-saving. When you have a potentially fatal cancer and choose not to take medication, please, come to me and show me how you've magically healed on your own. Then we can talk. 

• Oh I don't need medication, I've cured myself with these herbal supplements and exercise. Well hoody hoo for you. You are not me. You're not inside my brain. I have a bachelors in kineseology, worked in corporate fitness for five years, and am a certified personal trainer and fitness instructor. If exercise could cure me, I think I'd be fine and dandy by now. I'm honestly glad that works for you. You're lucky. Me, not so much. It does help me at times, but it doesn't cure me. Nothing does. I have a chronic illness that currently has no cure. 

• Just relax/chill out/calm down (during anxiety/hypomania). *%&$&*$%&#$%*$% You. If I could, I would. And here's a tip: never, in the history of telling people to calm down, has telling someone to calm down actually made them do so. In fact, it does the reverse. 

• Just focus on the positive more. Be more grateful.  I'm not ungrateful. I know I have "no reason" (as you put it) to feel so awful, worthless, terrible, hopeless. I know there are starving children in Africa and that so many people are more sick, or have it worse. But I do, actually, have a reason. It's called a medical illness that screws with my brain. And now, thanks to you, I simply feel guilty about having this illness, and more like a giant piece of shit than I already felt. 

• Why are you depressed? You have a good life. If I asked you why you couldn't just stop having cancer because you have a good life and *should* be healthy, I'd look like the biggest asshat on the planet. When you ask this, so do you. 

• I  avoid people who are emotional/dramatic. Every time I see this in anyone's status/profile/etc I run like the wind. Because this makes me feel like I can't be myself if I'm having an overly emotional day, and like it's my fault if I am. Like it's not an illness that makes me this emotional but a choice. It makes me feel like a burden. And I don't want to be a burden to anyone. I'd rather be alone. 

• Happiness is a choice. Ah, well, no shit?! If only I'd known! All this time, I've been suffering from a lifelong illness when I could have just decided not to be depressed! I hope you can sense the sarcasm. If happiness was a choice, approximately 16 million Americans would not be living with Major Depressive Disorder (source here). Trust me, we don't want to be depressed, and we certainly never chose this on purpose. 

• You can't control what happens to you but you can control your reactions to it. Clarification: in a perfect world, I agree. But in a perfect world, 16 million Americans would battle major depression either. By nature of my disorder, my brain makes it increasingly difficult to control my reactions, and sometimes nearly impossible. If it helps make this a bit more clear, my meds are actually used primarily for seizures. Basically, I'm having a seizure- like reaction in my brain that manifests itself emotionally/mentally instead of physically. And if you've ever witnessed someone having a seizure, you understand the lack of control. If I could not have an anxiety attack or panic attack in public, I would.  Because nobody likes being stared at and steered clear of in public. Nobody likes collapsing in a pile of tears in the middle of a crowd. And if I could not sink into a depression, I would. Trust me, even through a depression, I'm trying to keep to react as best as possible. I'm trying not to let it drag me under into an abyss of nothingness. I don't always win. Please believe me, if I can't control it, I really can't.

Fellow mental health battlers, have more? I'm sure there are plenty. I try to laugh at them, to brush these things off. It helps keep me from isolating myself, feeling like nobody understands me. So I joke and use colorful language to make them lighter. But honestly, these things aren't funny. They're annoying at best, and ignorant and stigmatizing at worst. 

What Does Mental Health Acceptance Look Like?

Today is World Mental Health Day. It's one of the few days each year where even those who are not specifically mental health or chronic illness advocates seem to be interested in the subject. My guess is mostly because the hashtag is trending on twitter, and people who may not normally see posts about mental health do. I'm kidding, but only partly (it really was trending). Whatever the reason, it makes me happy and proud to see such a large group of people speaking out, or at least following along with the discussion, liking posts and retreating tweets, and what have you.

Needless to say, every day is mental health day for me, and for everyone else who makes up the twenty five percent of the US population that battles a mental heath condition. That's right, approximately one quarter of people in the US. One third when including addictive disorders. Which may seem startling in itself. What's even more incredible is that despite this glaring number, society at large likes to pretend it isn't an actual illness, scraping the subject under the carpet, only to pull it out when they need an easy scapegoat for some sort of tragedy. As those of us who advocate increase in number, refusing to be pushed down and quieted, we are making headway. Still, we have a long way to go before mental health is truly accepted.

So, what does that mean, mental health acceptance? To me, acceptance is:

• When you understand that it is a medical condition, in an organ, that just happens to be the brain. Just like any other chronic, physical condition, that affects a particular organ or system.

• When we no longer have to explain why it is not "all in our heads", no longer told to just be more positive, look on the bright side, adjust our attitude, be more grateful, and we'd be better. 

• When we can take a sick day for our condition just as someone with asthma or diabetes or heart disease would, without any overt or subtle backlash. 

• When our conditions are covered by insurance companies and other healthcare providers just as physical conditions are. 

• When our veterans suffering from PTSD get the care they deserve. 

• When we can openly tell people about our illness without sideways glances, backing away, awkward pauses. 

• When you see us as a person, an individual, and not our condition. 

• When you realize that not everything we do or say is because of our condition. We are entitled to emotions just like everyone else.  

• When you stop thinking that we'd be better if we were "normal". 

• When people understand that we are 10 times more likely to be VICTIMS of violent crime, not perpetrators.

• When you understand that (hypo)mania, panic attacks and anxiety are serious, and not us  being "dramatic". 

• When you realize we didn't choose our conditions, just you did not choose asthma or diabetes or cancer. 

• When you understand that it is a depressive episode, and not us being lazy.

• When we don't have to explain that we aren't being rude or boring, we have social anxiety. 

• When you stop trying to shame us for taking medications that save our lives. 

• When you are as willing to help someone in a mental health crisis as you are in a physical health crisis. 

• When you realize that depression can be a fatal illness. 

• When people are no longer afraid to speak out about a loved ones suicide, or seek help for their own suicidal feelings. 

• When we stop having to pretend we aren't sick because it makes you uncomfortable. 

• When you call us strong for living every day of our lives with this illness, instead of crazy. 

That is mental health acceptance. 

What Does Mental Health Acceptance Look Like?

Today is World Mental Health Day. It's one of the few days each year where even those who are not specifically mental health or chronic illness advocates seem to be interested in the subject. My guess is mostly because the hashtag is trending on twitter, and people who may not normally see posts about mental health do. I'm kidding, but only partly (it really was trending). Whatever the reason, it makes me happy and proud to see such a large group of people speaking out, or at least following along with the discussion, liking posts and retreating tweets, and what have you.

Needless to say, every day is mental health day for me, and for everyone else who makes up the twenty five percent of the US population that battles a mental heath condition. That's right, approximately one quarter of people in the US. One third when including addictive disorders. Which may seem startling in itself. What's even more incredible is that despite this glaring number, society at large likes to pretend it is an actual illness, scraping the subject under the carpet, only to pull it out when they need an easy scapegoat for some sort of tragedy. As those of us who advocate increase in number, refusing to be pushed down and quieted, we are making headway. Still, we have a long way to go before mental health is truly accepted.

So, what does that mean, mental health acceptance? To me, acceptance is:

• When you understand that it is a medical condition, in an organ, that just happens to be the brain. Just like any other chronic, physical condition, that affects a particular organ or system.

• When we no longer have to explain why it is not "all in our heads", no longer told to just be more positive, look on the bright side, adjust our attitude, be more grateful, and we'd be better. 

• When we can take a sick day for our condition just as someone with asthma or diabetes or heart disease would, without any overt or subtle backlash. 

• When our conditions are covered by insurance companies and other healthcare providers just as physical conditions are. 

• When our veterans suffering from PTSD get the care they deserve. 

• When we can openly tell people about our illness without sideways glances, backing away, awkward pauses. 

• When you see us as a person, an individual, and not our condition. 

• When you realize that not everything we do or say is because of our condition. We are entitled to emotions just like everyone else.  

• When you stop thinking that we'd be better if we were "normal". 

• When people understand that we are 10 times more likely to be VICTIMS of violent crime, not perpetrators.

• When you understand that (hypo)mania, panic attacks and anxiety are serious, and not us  being "dramatic". 

• When you realize we didn't choose our conditions, just you did not choose asthma or diabetes or cancer. 

• When you understand that it is a depressive episode, and not us being lazy.

• When we don't have to explain that we aren't being rude or boring, we have social anxiety. 

• When you stop trying to shame us for taking medications that save our lives. 

• When you are as willing to help someone in a mental health crisis as you are in a physical health crisis. 

• When you realize that depression can be a fatal illness. 

• When people are no longer afraid to speak out about a loved ones suicide, or seek help for their own suicidal feelings. 

• When we stop having to pretend we aren't sick because it makes you uncomfortable. 

• When you call us strong for living every day of our lives with this illness, instead of crazy. 

That is mental health acceptance. 

8 Things That Having A Mental Health Condition Has Helped Me Stop Giving A Sh*t About

Having a mental health condition sucks. It absolutely, completely does. I've been the worst depression in a long time lately, topped with pretty severe anxiety. Thank goodness my boyfriend is the most patient and understanding and supportive man in the world. I don't know that I'd get through all of this without him, though he promises me I would. But having a mental health condition, and dealing with all of the turmoil, pain (physical, emotional, mental), struggle, stigma, and everything else it brings on, has helped me stop caring so much about a few things that I realize, when compared to... say... my ability to positively function in the world... aren't that important.

• That you think I'm "crazy". Now, let me clarify. This is NOT saying that this term is ok. It's not. It's ignorant, stigmatizing and downright wrong. But the fact that you personally think I personally am "crazy"? Unless you're using it as a grounds to discriminate against me somehow, I could give a rats ass. Because we're all our own kind of "crazy". Meaning we all have things that make us unique, quirky, different. Maybe I'm a little more different than the average person. So what? Do I really care what someone who is clearly ignorant and judgmental and stigmatizing thinks just because I'm not like everyone else? No. But if I hear you using the term to refer to someone, or mental health in general ... well let's just say I've been doing a lot of boxing training lately. 

• Being trendy or cool. I've never been trendy or cool. Ever. And honestly, I've kind of always marched to my own drummer and not cared. But having a chronic illness puts things in perspective even further. It makes me realize that I have no choice but to be my own person, because I can't possibly be like everyone else even if I wanted to. And, it's given me a group of spoonie friends who get this, and realize that staying alive and functioning in day to day life is way more important than if you have the latest hairstyle. Also, I spend a crapload of money on therapy appointments, medications, health insurance, etc. If I'm buying the latest brand names, I'm buying it 75% off on the TJ Maxx sales rack. 

• Getting drunk. I kind of outgrew this naturally because I'm a 36 year old adult, and therefore should have. It doesn't mean I don't enjoy a good beer or glass of wine or bourbon (or two). But I already lack enough control over my brain sometimes. Why the hell would I want to lack even more? Plus, alcohol is a known depressant and I suffer from depression naturally so that doesn't make for a good combination. Plus again, priorities. "Hey, I'm finally having a good day! Let me do something so I won't remember it!..". No. Let me relish actually feeling ok and enjoying a day with my loved ones.... that I'll remember in full detail and not be feeling massive effects of later. 

• Staying out/up late.  Similar to the above. Lack of sleep makes me cycle. When I'm finally not cycling, why do I want to stay up late and chance lacking sleep, and therefore cycling (I am unable to sleep in past 7:30 or 8 AM unless I'm severely ill or jet-lagged)? I'd rather actually continue to catch up on sleep that I've missed from waking up due to cycling or anxiety the rest of the week/month. 

• Material things. I never really cared about these, but now, I really, really don't. Yes, I have a Mac. Yes, I have an iphone 6. These products help me work, and more importantly, keep me in touch with friends and loved ones. But similar to being cool or trendy, I have priorities, and having the biggest tv on the block or the newest coach bag are not among them, even remotely. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with you wanting these, but quite frankly, I have bigger fish to fry. Like staying alive and feeling sane some days.

• Being the same size as I was at 21. I will be 37 in September. I take pride in being active and eating healthy and generally keeping in as good health and shape as I can (minus the obvious chronic illnesses, in which I have no choice).  But things change from 21 to 31 to 36, and I am probably never going to be as thin or my body as firm as my younger self unless I'm ill and unnaturally losing weight.  My childbearing curves will surely come in handy when it's time to bear a child, and when I'm taking the best care of myself, I have done pretty well for my age, I think. I have battled body image issues in the past, and I do not want to go back there. I have to eat a certain amount before I take my meds each time, which often means a larger breakfast or extra snack.  So if that means I'm a little curvier and more muscular than thin, well, at least I'm as healthy as possible. 

• Being popular/having a large group of "friends".  I have an amazing family, a boyfriend who is my best friend and partner in everything, and some very close friends who would do anything for me, and vice versa. I don't need a huge group of people. In fact, as an INFJ introvert, I don't want a huge group of people around me. I want a few close friends that I can count on, and I'm happy to have others who want to do things occassionally, but who I realize aren't my best friends. As I mentioned above, I've never been cool, and I see no reason to start being cool or overly popular now. 

• Having a big savings account. I never much had the opportunity to care about this before, because let's just say I haven't chosen careers that scream six figures. But the longer I live with chronic illness, the longer I am all about experiencing every positive moment, every "healthy" day (i.e. a-symptomatic/less symptomatic). I want to explore, learn, experience. I have spent the last 15 years exploring the world, and I've been even more gung-ho to do so since being diagnosed.  It's equally true of things closer to home - taking impromptu day trips, visiting a new attraction or museum in my home city, going to the local farmers market to pick out food for the week, family game night (with actual family or close friends). I value lazy Saturday mornings making breakfast and sipping coffee with my boyfriend, because those mornings are precious - we're rarely "lazy", and they give us a chance to spend time relaxing, just the two of us, with nothing on the agenda but enjoying each others' company. This doesn't mean I want to be poor (it's tough to be poor and travel like I want to), but I don't care about having a massive savings account just to have it. I need money to live a comfortable-enough life of experiencing and truly living. Not to just to watch the total increase, and not to buy expensive things that I clearly don't need. 

I'm not saying that caring about these things is wrong. But for me, it's just not that important. It doesn't mean I don't have moments of "I wish I had more money", or "why is nobody around, don't I have any friends?". But they are not my focuses in life.  Quite frankly, I don't have the time or energy. I have too many other things to focus on, like staying healthy, spending quality time with loved ones, and enjoying each good day as much as I can, because I know it won't last very long - that's just the nature of rapid cycling. So while I hate my illness, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone, I have learned and grown from it. And there's a lot that to be said for that. 

The Mental Health Advocate's Gratitude List

Lists of gratitude are almost obligatory at this time of year. And naturally, I am thankful for family, friends, pets, roof over my head, my job, and all these standard things like the majority of the population. But as a mental health advocate, I have a few "gratitude items" that may be a bit unconventional, and I'm guessing a good number of chronic/invisible illness advocates can relate.

I am thankful for...

• Supportive friends and family, who have not given up on me, even in those moments when I want to give up on myself. 

• Grace, and Cinn, despite the fact that Cinn's no longer with me in body. Pets are some of the best (and most cuddly) form of therapy. Truly. They listen non-judgementally and love unconditionally and sometimes, that's exactly what I need. 

• Meds. These are lifesavers, literally. They have their downsides, but man am I grateful to found ones that work for me. 

• My therapist. She's priceless (not really she charges $175 per session, but it feels like she's priceless because she's worth every penny). 

• The spoonie community. You rock. You are the strongest bunch of badasses I have ever met, personally or virtually, in my life. Each and every one of you. Whether it's mental health or another chronic illness, I'm inspired to know you. Thank you, thank you, thank you, for wecloming me into your community. (If unfamiliar with the term spoonie...).

• My mood disorders support group on FB: I can often talk to you when I can talk to nobody else. You show me that I am not "crazy", as I sometimes feel, that I am human, and lovable, and worth it. 

• AFSP: Not only have I been able to participate in the Out Of Darkness Overnight Walk the past two years, but it has given me the opportunity to become involved in the local chapter, and to meet some amazing people in the region who are also dedicated AFSP and their mission of suicide prevention. It has, on my toughest days, reminded me why I persevere and keep going. 

• Life and hope: Every 12.8 minutes someone in the U.S. dies from suicide. So many people have lost their battle with mental health, and anyone who says depression or mood cycling is not fatal could not be more wrong. No matter how awful a time I might be going through, I am alive. 

To all of you who get me through the days, weeks, months, years, who stand by me in the worst of times, and celebrate with me in the best of times, I am so thankful for you all! Keep doing what you're doing. You are truly amazing. 

Leaving On A Jet Plane

#HAWMC Day 20:  If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go and why? Maybe you’ve already traveled to an exciting place and want to go back. We know travelling with a chronic illness can be challenging, so any tips for others that you can share would be great!

I feel like I'm cheating a little on this one, because I run a travel planning company. Travel is, more or less my life. People always ask me my favorite place, and I find this question extremely difficult. My "favorite" depends on what I'm looking for - a city escape, time with nature, lying beach with a fruity drink in my hand, exploring an exotic or unique landscape. But if someone said they could teleport me to somewhere right this minute, I'd choose Paris. 

I've been to Paris twice, once as recently as this past November. The first time I visited, about eight years ago, I wasn't excited. I was new to the travel industry, and I had not heard very positive things about Paris. We all know the stereotype - they're rude, they hate Americans, etc. I had a conference in Lyon and I thought, "I'm so close. I work in the travel industry now. How can I not go to Paris just to see what it's like." I fell in love. With the city, that is. This past trip only solidified this. 

When I'm in Paris, I feel like I belong. To someone who, in 35 years, as almost never, ever feels like she belongs, this is borderline miraculous. I don't know what it is about the city. Everyone there is chic and fashionable and I am ... not. My french is more or less limited to names of pastries, asking for the toilet, and the word "canelle", as it's French for Cinnamon, which is the name of my dog. (Fun story, I know this because I met the "house dog" of a hotel I was staying at, who was also named Cinnamon). So I'm not sure why I feel such a sense of belonging in this city that so many feel repelled from, and unwanted in, but I do. 

As for traveling with chronic illness, that greatly depends on your illness, of course. First and foremost, meds, meds, meds, meds.  If there's a time difference, you may need to adjust the time of day that you take them to keep on your schedule. Set alarms or ask someone to keep you accountable. Bring a few extra, in case for any reason your return flight is delayed/cancelled/etc and you are there longer than expected. Even many of our over-the-counter meds can't be found overseas, so don't count on running to the drug store to pick them up once you get there. Finally, as a travel planner I cannot stress this enough: DO NOT PACK YOUR MEDS IN YOUR CHECKED LUGGAGE. Or even a carryon that's big enough that it may have to be checked at the gate if they run out of overhead space. I was on a flight with a woman who had put her insulin in a large carry-on that they checked at the gate. Our plane was then grounded for mechanical issues, and the next flight out for her was the next day. She had to stay overnight in a an airport without her insulin because the airline said they "weren't authorized to retrieve her luggage". Understandably, she was freaking out. Just keep them on you. Always. Please. 

Ok, that rant done, - sorry, occupational hazard - a few more things I find helpful: 

• If you need to travel with any medical equipment, make sure that you have the proper written documentation from your doctor. I recently watch a woman kicked off a plane because she didn't have documentation for her oxygen tank. She was about as happy as the insulin lady above (note; also make sure all meds are in the original packaging. Customs doesn't like unidentified pills). 

• When you first arrive, try to adjust to the time zone. If you can make it until about 7 or 8 PM and then go to bed early, it helps to adjust your body to the time difference. 

• Try to keep more or less to regular schedule. If you usually go to bed at 10 and wake up at 7, don't stay up until 2 AM every night and sleep in until noon. Illness doesn't take a vacation (unfortunately) just because we do, and I think for many of us, routine is key. 

• Build in rest time. I'm guilty of being go, go, go when I'm on a trip because I don't want to miss anything. I've learned I have to build in a day or two to relax - go to the hotel spa, order room service, or at least do something less physically strenuous to give myself a break. 

• Alcohol. If you have an illness that is affected badly by alcohol, it's still affected badly by alcohol when you're on vacation. This is a sad but true fact. 

• If you have food allergies or sensitivities, try to learn the words for these foods in the local language before you go, so that you can at least attempt to ask about them. The same is ideal for your condition, though I'm nearly certain that cyclothymia doesn't translate into other languages, and I suspect many chronic illness sufferers are in the same boat.

• Other countries seem to have a different idea of a food "containing something" - as in, it doesn't contain it if it's not the main ingredient. While I hate to advise being a finicky traveler, sometimes it's too important not to be. 

Ok, I think that's it. As I said, travel is kind of my life, so I apologize for the particularly long post! Wherever this prompt takes you, I hope that you have a fabulous time!