Not long ago, I was watching a TV show about a man who was a recovering alcoholic and had a hard time coping. He had this plaque that he sometimes referred to in times of trouble. It was an old amusement park sign that read, "This is a dark ride."

That phrase just about sums up my life before being diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Today my medications are working most of the time and I have a sense of balance and control, but it wasn’t always that way. I was diagnosed in 2001, after a really severe manic episode that several different medications had no effect on.

I come from 4 generations of people with bipolar disorder, whether they knew it or not. I have a lot of immediate family members who are dually diagnosed, too. My mother killed herself when I was 16. She was 45 then. My father was a mean SOB who drank himself into an early grave at 48. I will be 44 this year.

I grew up in and out of the foster home system and when I got old enough to run, I did. I got married to the first man who said the right words to me. I was love-starved and had many other issues. I had four children with this man, and he beat the crap out of all of us. I finally got the courage to break free of him after 16 years of marriage.