But You Don't Feel Sick

Virtually everyone with an invisible chronic illness has dealt with "but you don't look sick", and the stigma and discrimination that goes along with it. People assume that you have to look perpetually ill if you have a chronic illness, and it's frustrating as hell - not every illness has obviously visible symptoms 24/7.  But it's not the only "invisible" part of a chronic illness. What those who don't battle chronic illness don't often understand is this: you don't have to always feel sick either. Not every single minute of every day for the rest of your life, at least. Take my condition, for example. I go through  mood cycles. Which by definition means I'm likely to feel differently from day to day, or at least week to week or month to month. Some days, cyclothymia kicks my butt, and I'm slogging through a depressive episode, or trying to reign in a hypomanic episode. Some days my anxiety and panic are pretty horrendous. Some days, I don't feel much of this at all, as long as I stick to my meds and general routine. That's right, there are times when I don't feel sick.  But let me clarify one crucial point:  this is NOT because I am free from illness on those days. Chronic doesn't go away - hence the reason that it's chronic. And just because I have a good day, or even good week or month, doesn't mean it's in "remission" (quotes for the fact that I'm not a fan of this term as applied to cycling, since obviously, it goes in cycles).  It's simply what it sounds like - a good day.

It may not even be a good day. It may be a good half a day, or a good couple of hours. It may simply not be a bad day, and those with chronic illness know you have to grab those opportunities because you never know when it may taken a turn for the worse.  I might have woken up this morning, or yesterday morning, with in a terrifying depressive episode. But as I'm rapid cycling, I've cycled out of it. Or I might wake up feeling perfectly fine, and cycle into hypomania by the end of the day. Something could trigger my anxiety at any moment. With a chronic illness, you are never not ill. You just don't have to feel it every living, breathing moment, thank goodness. Yet the general public seems to think that you do. They seem to think that if you were fine yesterday, how can you be unable to get out of bed today. Or if you were horribly ill last week, how can you manage to be out having a cup of coffee with a friend this week like a ... gasp... normal person. Aren't you sick? Surely you must not be that bad if you can manage to get out of the house. But this is ridiculous. It's like saying that a dedicated employee must work every holiday, even if the company is closed for the day, because otherwise they're clearly not dedicated enough. Battling a chronic illness takes a tremendous amount of strength, effort, and perseverance. If our illness gives us a "day off", why should we not be allowed to enjoy it?

Chronic and invisible illnesses deal with enough stigma. We already have to explain why we can't just "get better" or "push through it". We already have to explain that mental health conditions aren't just a bad attitude, that we're not just lazy or not trying hard enough, but that they're an actual medical conditions that respond to treatment. So if we have a day where we don't feel or look sick, let us have it without judgement We spend enough time battling illness. Don't make us battle your stigmatization and lack of understanding as well. 

How Would You Respond To Someone In a Mental Health Crisis?

If you saw a stranger standing alone suddenly stop and clutch their heart and look to be in pain or alarm, would you stop and help? Would you at least ask if they were OK or call 911 or look for the nearest person who may be able to offer more assistance? My guess is, you would be likely to. You'd want to take some action. Surely, you, a good, caring, kind person, wouldn't leave someone, even a total stranger, who looked to be suffering a heart attack. Same if you saw someone fall in agony with what looked to be a broken bone. But what if you saw someone having a mental health crisis? If you saw someone sitting against a wall or sitting on a bench, standing on a corner sobbing, completely alone, in obvious emotional pain. Would you stop? What if they were in the midst of an anxiety or panic attack, asking for help, or saying something that didn't make sense to you through their tears, struggling to breathe? What if they tried to pretend they weren't there, so depressed and withdrawn they wished to be invisible?

I can tell you from personal experience, the answer is no. Strangers do not stop. They do not ask if you are OK. It doesn't matter to them that you're crying, gasping for breath, quietly asking for someone to please help. To them, that's "crazy", and they're not going to touch "crazy" with a ten foot pole. They don't want to be associated with it. Or, to give them the benefit of the doubt, maybe they think, at least for us women, that we're just being dramatic, hormonal, emotional. That they have bigger problems than to help some woman that can't pull herself together and help herself (I can't speak from the man's point of view, as  I've never been a man suffering from an anxiety attack or depressive episode in public). But I can tell you that I can count on one finger the number of times someone has stopped for me. And that person was in an elevator with me, so perhaps it was simply the proximity, or the fact that I was wearing a shirt that said "Out of Darkness Walk for Suicide Prevention" at the time that made her think that something more substantial was wrong. But let me tell you, that one person, she made me feel like I mattered when I thought I didn't. But that happens so seldom.

Let me tell you instead what happens: You have a panic attack, or anxiety attack, or (hypo)manic episode or are so depressed you can barely lift your head. Someone you don't know, or don't know well, sees or hears this. They get concerned, but not for you, for themselves.  Because you're acting "weird" at best and "crazy" at worst. Maybe you're dangerous, they think. I better not let them near me, let alone help. Then, without speaking to you at all to find out what happened, to make sure you're OK they "take some action". Some cowardly, inappropriate action. Maybe they post something about it on social media "I just saw this crazy lady crying on the corner for no reason and begging for help. What a freak." Or maybe, if it's someone somehow associated with you - someone in your industry, or in your housing complex, they write something to you about your "behavior", or worse, write something to someone else and complain about you without any knowledge of what actually happened. Maybe you're then stigmatized and possibly discriminated against in the group or community, or whatever it is. Not overtly, of course - that's illegal. Nobody wants the ADA on their tail. But maybe you're glanced at sideways, or written off as less capable, or considered a "problem" that people talk about behind closed doors. All without anyone speaking to you to find out about your medical condition. And if it's someone you have no contact with - well, you just become that crazy lady that cries on the street randomly. Or you're nobody at all. Nobody deserving of help, of asking if they're OK. And that, to be honest, is worse. I've been an outsider my whole life. I get it. I've grown to accept it. But to be nobody, to be invisible? In avoiding asking if that person was OK, it might be the last thing that nobody said to that person. Because all they needed in that moment was someone to reach out and notice kindly, and nobody did. That person, in their eyes, is nobody.

So please before you judge, before you label, and before you pass someone by that looks to be in any kind of pain, stop and think - how would you feel if all you needed was someone to understand what you were going through, or at least to try to, and everyone refused, as if you and your pain didn't exist And maybe, next time, stop to ask. Or offer a tissue to someone crying. Or offer to listen to them. But treat them like a human being. The way you would if they were having a "physical" attack, because it's no different. You might think it is. You might a heart attack is an emergency because you think it can kill and mental illness cannot.  And you'd be horribly mistaken.

I hope others have a better experience. I'd like to hear them, if you have. I'm sure the world is full of good and caring people who would stop and help a stranger in any kind of need. So please, if you've been in such a situation, please share if so inclined. It can, of course, be anonymous, as always. 

Why April Fools Is Not Funny For Anxiety Sufferers

April Fools - a day of harmless pranks and possibly not so nice but short-lived jokes. All fun and games, right?  Except for some people with anxiety, it is neither harmless nor short lived. Perhaps it would help if I explained the physical symptoms of anxiety. First, your head races. Thoughts of "what am I going to do?" "What if x happens?" "What if y doesn't happen?". "What if, what if, what if..." Then your heart catches onto the uncertainty and starts pounding, racing. Which makes it feel difficult to catch your breath. You may start to sweat. All of which makes you more anxious, and it becomes a vicious cycle. Now this experience is difficult enough when something traumatic actually happens. But what if it was all a joke? What if the situation that caused this wasn't even real, and worse, the person who initiated this knows it's not real? What if you're having an anxiety attack for nothing? Is this funny to you?

Now, this doesn't mean we don't have a sense of humor. It also doesn't mean that we can't handle changes, or be spontaneous. But what it does mean is, if we do not have to go through severe anxiety, there is no point in us doing so. I work in a busy, client-driven industry. I get clients home who have fallen ill overseas. I change last minute business flights. My work schedule is liable to change daily. I'm used to change. I can handle it. I do handle it. Still, I've seen some pretty cruel April fools jokes out there. A friend of mine shared an article on Facebook the other day about how fake pregnancy posts are not a funny April Fools joke. I have just one question for people who have posted fake pregnancies as a jest. WHY WOULD ANYONE THINK THIS IS FUNNY?  Do you know how many people struggle to have a family? It's not remotely funny. Neither are fake layoffs. Nor fake breakups or anything of the like. It's not funny to tell people there was a mix up with payroll and they aren't getting paid this week - those people may rely on that check to pay the bills and buy food for their family. Nor that they suddenly have to work all weekend when they had to be out of town, or have some big event planned, as they try to frantically rearrange everything in their head. Neither is something as basic as fake-cancelling on plans that someone's been looking forward.  It hurts them, even if momentarily. Why would you want to hurt someone for no reason?  Yet I've heard of each of these being used as April Fools jokes ( luckily not to me, people know better by now).

You may think these things are funny, because you' know they're not true. In your mind, it's no big deal. You think, "What, I just told you I was joking? What's the problem?". The big deal is that it doesn't end for us then. It does for you because you knew all along it was a joke, and because you don't have a medical condition that it negatively impacted, even if for just a while. For us, our heart rate and breathing take a while to recover. Our brain continues to race with things like "but what if it's not a joke..." and "Ok false alarm but what would I do if...".

So please, be careful with your April Fools jokes. We all know google is going to "premier" some ridiculous feature, not because people will believe it but because it's almost become tradition. Surely some unsuspecting person will get their toothpaste or shaving cream replaced with something. But please, before playing some bigger joke where the person could truly be negatively affected, think twice. You never know what people are going through, and you certainly wouldn't want your "harmless" joke to land someone in the ER. That is not harmless at all. 

Cyclothymia: Having An Illness That Nobody Talks About

You may have heard the phrase "invisible illness".  Invisible illnesses those that are not (always) obviously visible at a glance. These include mental health, autoimmune, and digestive disorders, along with other illnesses in which we often hear the hated phrase "but you don't look sick". Having any chronic illness is difficult enough. Having an invisible illness, and the stigma often attached to it, as people struggle to understand how you could possibly be ill when you look so well, is particularly trying. But what if you struggle with a chronic, invisible illness that most people haven't even heard of?

I'll admit, six years ago when I was diagnosed with rapid cycling cyclothymia, I hadn't heard of it. And I minored in psychology. The last time I visited a new (non-psychology based) doctor and had to list pre-existing conditions, their system couldn't find it and I had to manually type the name into the computer myself, because the nurses had never heard of it. I had to then explain what it was, and still got bemused looks.

When you google cyclothymia, half of the resources call it "mild". Perhaps when compared to some other cycling conditions, including the full manic episodes and long-lasting depression of Bipolar I and II, it is mild.  But rapid cycles between depression and hypomania, and the anxiety that goes along with it, is by no mean mild compared to, say, life without those. In mentions of mental health conditions, cyclothymia is rarely included in the list. In searching for resources, it seems impossible to find anything that's not a medical source - nobody blogging or writing about it. There are few personal sites or forums dedicated to it. I have found no organization that focus specifically on it. In addition to cyclothymia being elusive, rapid cycling is particularly rare, as is having more hypomania than depression  (it's usually the reverse). Because of this, my medication, which is prescribed to help my hypomania and does not directly affect depression, is not as frequently prescribed for cycling. Which means that finding resources on my medication with the primary usage being cyclothymia, or any type of mood cycling, isn't particularly easy. (The primary usage is for seizures). And finding personal resources, information from others on my same medication for rapid cycling cyclothymia, seems downright impossible.

It's a lonely feeling. When people question that your condition is real, try to placate it with silly patronizing "advice", stigmatize you, to have such a difficult time providing legitimate resources, or finding health professionals that have even heard of it, is incredibly isolating.  I know that I'm not alone in this. I have friends and relatives with equally rare, if not more rare, conditions, and they too have to explain their illness at length, say "yes, I promise, this is a real thing".  They too have people question that it's not "all in their heads".  They too have to deal with assumptions and misconceptions. They too have to explain that they always have a condition, that they're always battling, even when you can't visibly see it.

I've been lucky enough, in my focus on mental health support and advocacy, the "meet" (virtually) others who have cyclothymia, and a few others who have rapid cycling. I say lucky not because I'm glad that anyone else has it, but because at least if we have to have it, we have the opportunity to build a support network for each other. And because I do experience symptoms of other mental health conditions, such as Major Depression, Bipolar Disorder, and Generalized Anxiety Disorder, I have met many amazing people in the mental health advocacy community who can offer support and understanding, even without having my same illness. These people understand. But, for the general public, please be a bit more mindful when it comes to people's illnesses. Instead of screwing up your face and saying "Huh? Is that a real thing?" when they tell you of their chronic invisible illness, ask for more information out of genuine interest and concern. Something like "I'm not familiar with that, can you explain a bit more about it?" (but only if they want to, not everyone loves talking about their illness). If it's a close friend or loved one, see if they have resources. Or offer to help them find resources if they're getting frustrated at the lack thereof. Offer to go to a doctor appointment with them (if they want) in order to learn more. Sometimes a fresh set of eyes/ears can help.  But please, whatever you do, don't say "But you don't look sick." 

Your Reality May Not Be Mine

During my struggles with my disorder, I've been called a lot of things. I've been told I'm illogical, irrational, even delusional.  While I admit my creative brain may wander more to the depths of imagination than the logical line of thinking, and that in my worst moments I may not be thinking the most rationally, I have never been delusional, and I recover rationality quite quickly once I'm not in the midst of a hypomanic or anxiety attack. I've been accused of being unable to handle life. On the less damaging end, I've been told I'm being too pessimistic, that I look at the glass half empty, that I need to just focus at the positive side of things. I've been constantly reminded that people have it much worse (I would never deny this), and that I need to "get a grip". And when I insist that I'm a realist, an optimist even, people tend to get bent out of shape.  Because they don't understand that my reality may truly be different from theirs.

My reality is that I have hypomania, depression, and anxiety. I have panic attacks. My reality is what I experience with this illness. Which means that when I get anxious or depressed or panicked about something that seems insignificant to you, it does not feel that way to me. It's not me "getting worked up" or "blowing it out of proportion" or "being dramatic."  I physically, mentally, and emotionally experience the situation differently than others may.  The best way I can describe it in more "physical" terms is this: If someone has bad asthma, and you go on a hike together, what may seem like a slight, easily navigable incline to you may be a challenging hill for them. Telling them that it's not a difficult hike, or that it's only a small incline, won't make it any easier for them to breathe. In fact, in addition to their breathing struggles, they may now feel self-conscious or frustrated, because you've pointed out that it "shouldn't" be tough, further emphasizing their illness. They aren't "being dramatic" when they struggle to breathe. To them, it really is challenging on their system. It's the same with my illness, except that the organ affected is my brain. 

To help illustrate how things feel and appear to me, here are a few examples:

• You see a slight glitch in the plan for the day. I see, and physically feel, that the entire day's schedule now has to be rearranged, and that I must frantically try to figure out how I'm still going to get everything done. In addition to my mental and emotional feelings of anxiety, my heart starts pounding and I having trouble breathing. 

• You see a minor "road block" that you can reason your way around. I experience the panic of having to completely give up the task/project/whatever it may be because it'll never come to fruition. My brain bombards me with numerous other examples of when I failed at a similar task, or sometimes just any task, which makes it nearly impossible to concentrate on finding a solution. 

• You see the positives of the day. I see those too, but my brain highlights all of the things that did not go well, because those are the things I will, at least according to my brain, still have deal with later. So those are the areas that it focuses on, hoping to figure out what to do. It makes it very tough to "look at the bright side" and focus on the positive aspects when your brain is continually creating a list of tasks, stressors, and concerns. 

• You see obvious solutions. I see fears. Why don't you make a phone call.  You mean besides my hone anxiety? How about you collaborate with so and so.  Because I have social anxiety and they won't want to work with me and I'll just feel inferior and insecure around them and... and.. . It'll be fine, just go introduce yourself. "Hi...um... I ...uh... (looks at ground awkwardly)...yes... ok.. yeah... you too (to nothing in particular)." And yes, I can push myself. To a point. But there's a fine between trying to work through your fears and pushing yourself in the direction of a massive anxiety attack. 

I realize that because you can't actually see my depression, anxiety, and hypomania, and because there are people out there who actually enjoy making everything more dramatic than it has to be, many people have a tough time telling the difference. Still, I ask you to err on the side of caution. Because even that "drama king/queen" may be struggling with low self esteem and feelings of inferiority.  They maybe they're completely ignored at home/work/elsewhere and just desperately need someone, anyone, to take notice of them. They may be crying out for some sort of help in some way that you don't understand.  You never know what's happening inside the head of anyone but yourself, and I would venture to guess that each and every one of us has something we're struggling with or battling that isn't obvious to others. And none of us would want to be judged, criticized, or mocked for that. So please, stop using phrases like "chill out" or "calm down". Stop accusing people of being dramatic, illogical, irrational, delusional.  They probably aren't, but if they're ill enough that they actually are having delusions, shouldn't you help them instead of getting annoyed at them? In your criticism and your name calling, not only are you judging them without all of the information, but you may be stigmatizing them because of an illness which they have little control over and certainly didn't choose. 

Doctor Anxiety

With the amount of time that I spend going to therapy, getting blood drawn, taking meds, and talking about my health in general, you'd think that doctors visits and anything medical/health related would be a snap. And in theory, it is. I don't mind the actual appointments themselves. I have no shame about gowns with awkward openings, or being touched and prodded and poked (professionally). Needles don't bother me, nor does the sight of blood. I helped aspirate my own knee when I was 16. I don't mind CAT/MRI machines. I have had my GI system examined from every angle. It's not the actual tests that bother me - though that colonoscopy prep wasn't fun. It's the idea of doctors and tests that bother me, my therapy visits being an exception. Let me explain.

First off, my family are no strangers to health issues, numerous of which are genetic. On several occasions family members have gone in for routine visits and told they have stage 3 or 4 cancer. Crohns, colitis, and colon cancer are not strangers to our family. Neither are heart conditions. Or endometriosis. Two years ago when I was having dizzy spells I got examined/tested at length for MS and ALS, along with TIAs, which have taken lives in my family. And I realize all of this should make me more willing to go to the doctor. But this shit is scary. And you know what's also scary? The waiting period before you actually go, and the waiting period for the results. Because that leaves a lot of time for imagination, and my imagination likes to work overtime as it is.

For those that suffer from anxiety, you know what I'm talking about. Here's how it plays out in my head: I have this doctor appointment for something routine - doctor, dentist, OBGYN, routine visit, or something that doesn't seem earth shattering. I'm going to totally fine. But what if I go and they find some life- threatening illness. Oh no, what if it's this or that (insert scary illness here)? What will I do? My insurance wouldn't cover that! How will that affect the rest of my life? What will I do, I can't afford that! I'm going to die alone and miserable. Or worse, I'm going to live a long but ill life, alone, and in the debt of insurance and medical bills. This is literally what goes through my head for a routine physical. You should have seen me with the CAT scans of my head, or god forbid the pregnancy test they insist on giving you at the OBGYN every single time, even those times that you assure them it would have to be the second coming of Christ if you were somehow pregnant.

To clarify, I'm not a hypochondriac. I don't run to the doctor or ER for every little thing - far from it (because clearly I do not love going to either unless it's absolutely necessary). Nor am I the type of person that needs to be waited on hand and foot the minute I get a cold. In fact, routinely I'll casually mention, "oh, I have a migraine/sinus infection", or "oh yeah that time when I had encephalitis..." and people look at me like I have two heads. But it's anxiety. It's anxiety because I don't like the unknown even if I feel like it is known. I don't even like the suggestion of the unknown. Because even when I'm 99.9999% positive of the result -i.e. the immaculate conception pregnancy tests described above - I sit there driving myself crazy about what could possibly go wrong, even if it's something that has nothing to do with my original visit/test/etc (I'm not sure what else they'd find on the pregnancy test beside pregnancy, but you get the idea).

Partly, I think for those of us with anxiety and mental health conditions, we're always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Our lives are never free of anxiety, depression, hypomania, or symptoms of these. They're never going well for that long, as is the nature of mood cycling. You may be "up" for a bit, but you know the crash is coming. That makes it tough to enjoy the up at times, especially if you're rapid cycling and know it isn't bound to last all that long. And such it is when it comes to the rest of life. When things seem to be going well, no matter how hard you've worked or how much you feel, or others tell you, that you deserve to be happy, you're waiting for something to jump out from some dark hidden corner where you aren't looking and ruin it. Thus, in our mind, a well visit checkup to a doctor, or a dentist, or someone else we (should) routinely see turns into an impending avalanche in our heads for no reason other than the fact that we suffer from anxiety. Because if nothing else is going wrong, this must be it, just waiting for us, when we least expect it.

I don't know if others have this fear, or if it's just me. I find it ironic that the physical tests themselves don't bother me. And I think if I could go in at the moment, get any tests right then, and get the results immediately, I'd be a little better. Not great, but at least it wouldn't stretch the process of waiting out impossibly long. But knowing some sort of appointment weeks or months from now, and then you have to do all these tests and exams, and then you have to wait x number of days/weeks/hopefully not months because then someone's not doing their job for the results is torture. Because waiting means uncertainty, even when you feel certain. And anxiety and depression and uncertainty don't mix.

Things You Always Wanted To Know About Mental Health But Are Afraid To Ask - Part 3

I'm getting a lot of mileage out of this particular title. Pretty cool. But I feel that the list of things people don't understand about mental health seems to be growing by the day, and I'm giving people the benefit of the doubt that they'd want to know. And because every time I hear people make an ignorant comment I say to myself - hopefully to myself - uggghhh (or *%&$%&$%*%&$), if only they were educated on this topic and didn't have to be so ignorant! So, more things you always wanted to know about mental health but are afraid to ask.

Could you live life without your meds? I could. Technically. I did so for 30 years.  Could I live life at the same level of health and stability. That remains to be seen, but I'm going to say probably not - at least not personally. Because I know how it felt before, and it was rough enough to make me go on meds in the first place. Let me be very clear: This answer is for me personally only.  I'm not telling everyone with a mood cycling condition they should be on meds for life. But I've worked in health and fitness. I know how to exercise and eat right. I've done it with just therapy alone. I've done yoga and meditation. Those things all help. Collectively. Along with my meds. Are there situations in which I would go off my meds for one reason or another? Absolutely (i.e. when, all things willing, I decide to start a family). But just "to not have to rely on meds to feel 'normal'"? Would you ask a cancer patient to do the same? I rest my case.

How can I tell if you're depressed? Easiest answer in the world, if you're someone I'm close to: I'll tell you.  But everyone's different of course, and some might not feel so comfortable being this open. If you know someone who battles depression, ask them what theirs looks like specifically. It often manifests itself as lack of energy, exhaustion, apathy, feelings of hopelessness and worthlessness (note: it's not always that you feel sad; it's often that you feel nothing at all), but helps to know how theirs shows up. It may vary from one episode to another, though this should give you a better starting point for recognizing it.

How can I tell if you're (hypo)manic? With me personally, you probably can't. Unless I tell you. Which I probably will if I feel it's going to be obvious. I don't get "delusions of grandeur" (this is such a weird description) or go on shopping sprees or think I'm invincible or anything like that. I might get a bit more antsy and agitated. I might be more productive because I'm feeling more awake. I might seem like I drank an entire pot of coffee, though then again I might have drunk an entire pot of coffee. But I also might be this way because I'm stressed with work, or life, or traffic. Or I might be more productive or positive because I'm just having a good day or things are going well in life. It's not always hypomania, or anxiety, or anything related to my condition. I may just be having a "normal" reaction to life as anyone else would.

Does (hypo)mania feel good? This is, for me, a big myth, though I've heard others say they do feel better during the "up" cycles. I generally feel like I have a lot of nervous/extra energy. Sometimes it feels like I need to run miles and miles, or drive fast with the windows down until I run out of gas, or scream until I've exhausted every ounce of energy in me, or punch someone (I don't, don't worry). Hypomania creates a tremendous amount of internal energy for me, and while that can be harnessed for positive, it can also make me feel very on edge. So no, I generally do not think it feels good. At all. It feels like a lack of control over my brain.  And regardless of if that elicits "good" or "bad" feelings, I don't like not being in control of my brain.

How can I tell if you're actually mad/upset/etc at me or cycling?  Are you being a jerk? Then I'm  upset with you. But in all seriousness, trust your gut. Not your defensive reaction, your gut. Your defensive reaction will tell you it's me 100 percent of the time. But try to get past that. If it's a repeated pattern - i.e. I always get upset with you when you're a half hour late and don't call/text to let me know - then I'm probably upset at you. If it's not, then it's possible I'm cycling. It's also possible that I'm not that mad at you about this issue, but it's been building up and I finally boil over. Or that I'm not mad at you but I had a crappy day and you do something that ever so slightly irks me and you get the brunt of my frustration. I try not to let this happen, but I'm human and it does.

How do I know if you don't want to do something/go out/etc because you're depressed versus when you're just tired from every day life? Does it matter? I'm not trying to be a smart-ass. This is a genuine question. My condition isn't contagious, so it's not like you have to stay away from me in one situation vs the other. And sleep is important to my condition even if I'm not depressed at the moment. Plus, if someone, anyone, condition or no, is exhausted from a busy week, shouldn't you just respect that?

Do you ever wish you were normal? Do you ever wish you were average-looking?  This is a tricky question (the former, not the latter). There are moments in which I wish I didn't have my condition, or that it wasn't acting up. I dislike the way it affects those I'm close to, and there are certainly times that I wish I didn't have to stop whatever I was doing to eat something so I could take meds, Or days I wake up depressed that I really, really need to not feel that way because I have to be "on" all day at some major event. Or moments when I can't stop myself from talking that I really wish I'd shut up. But no, I do not, overall, wish I was normal. Partly because there's no point. Wishing won't change it. Partly because, as my grandma used to say, "if it ain't your ass it's your elbow." Meaning, if it wasn't this, it would be something else. Nobody has a perfect life. My condition is part of what makes me, me. I wouldn't know what to do with normal if I tripped over it.

Have a question? Go ahead and ask. Be warned, it may well turn up in a future post. But that's a good thing (don't worry, I don't use names). It helps people understand me, and those with similar disorders, and to me, that's always a positive.