Author Archives: Real Life with Bipolar Disorder - Blog

I have Word open because I think I should write. I’ve begged off most of my commitments for the day, save one, but it’s not until 3:00 p.m. All I have to do then is pick up my daughter from school and drive her to work. I can handle that. I don’t need to shower for this command performance. I don’t even need to fix my hair. I can just throw on a pair of sweat pants and a sweat shirt and I’m good to go. I can leave the house via the garage so no one will see me.

So, for now I have no obligations. The house is empty. So I write. Or at least I try to write. I haven’t written in some time. It can be intimidating staring at the blank page wondering what to write about. Do I choose a topic? Or do I just write about my life? Who am I writing for? Now there’s the question. Who am I writing for?

In the beginning, I think I was mostly writing to provide information about bipolar disorder, and offer support for others suffering from this illness. But somewhere along the way I started feeling pressure to write. Pressure to provide valuable insight on a weekly basis. That lasted for about a year. It became challenging to unearth a new topic—something people would be interested in. I just couldn’t keep up that pace and still pump out solid content. So, instead, I noticed I began to write more personal blog posts.

I started to write about my life. My personal experiences. I didn’t hold back. It appears this was well-received. I appreciated all the positive feedback about my posts. I was encouraged. So now the format of my blog has somewhat changed but I hope that I still offer some insight into life with bipolar disorder. I hope my words can help others relate. And I hope to reduce the stigma surrounding mental illness.

All that being said, I hope to continue to write for another reason. When I finally sit down and take on that blank page, I’m always glad I did. I always feel good after I write. It’s very cathartic. It’s relaxing for me and provides an outlet where I can express what’s going on with me, or talk about something I’ve been thinking about or encountered. But writing is a discipline. And I don’t like being disciplined. At least not now. Hence the length of time between recent posts. But I have to admit that, for me, writing is therapeutic.

I’ve been in somewhat of a difficult place lately. I’ve been fighting depression. This is a particularly seasonal depression for me. Something that I’ve battled with for years. In an effort to be proactive, my psychiatrist prescribed light therapy and added a natural supplement with mood stabilizing effects to my medication regime. As well, he is now changing one anti-psychotic drug and introducing another—one that has more sleep and anxiety aid. That’s all well and good but it spells one thing—a medication change. That’s always a tough job.
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When you’re depressed it’s so hard to do the very things that can help you. Like showering, getting dressed, leaving the house. I have days where that doesn’t happen. Today is almost one of those days. It’s trying to keep the balance between staying in and re-charging, and pushing myself to do things. I’ve been trying to combat my depression by keeping busy. I’m up at 8:00 a.m. to do my light therapy for half an hour. That leaves me with a lot of hours to fill in a day. I spend a lot of time chatting to people on my phone and of course can lose countless hours on social media. But, more importantly, I’m getting out of the house. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep it up, but for now I try to pass the hours with shopping, yoga, line dancing, visiting friends and spending time with my mom. All things good for my soul. Which brings me back to writing, it always comes back to writing—it’s good for my soul.

I got up today. I guess that’s always a good thing. But today I fear would have been better off spent in bed. It’s one of those days where I can feel the pressure of tears behind my eyes. My head is fuzzy. My heart is heavy. My body is moving slowly.

This is not the life I signed up for. My brain tells me to be grateful for the life I have. And I am. For the most part. But there are days like today where I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. Today is one of those days that you can’t really explain to others. And that you can’t really expect others to understand.

It’s a day of heartache. A day filled with everything that has gone wrong. I ruminate over the career I lost, the friends I lost, my lifestyle changes. I think of the deaths I’ve weathered. The changes to all my major relationships. I just want someone to hold me and let me cry. Someone who can really understand. But I’m alone.

Days like today fill me with fear. Fear of relapse. My life has been stable lately. Stable for quite some time. And I’ve been enjoying it. I’ve been enjoying life. That surprises me to say. Wow. I’ve been out running errands, eating in restaurants and participating in activities. I’ve been helping around the house and shuttling my daughter around. I’ve been engaged. Then whack. Today hits.

What a mess today is. But the truth is it’s not just today. It’s been building. Today I have just found the words to write about it. What if I relapse? The course of bipolar disorder dictates that I will. What would it look like? Would I find myself back in bed, hiding from the world? Or, is this it? Is how I’m feeling now the beginning? What will happen to my life? Will the people who have been standing by me stay? Or will it be too much for them to handle, again? How will I cope? That’s a lot of questions. And I’m afraid for the answers.

I feel pressure to remain stable. What will happen to my family if I relapse? What will I lose this time? I don’t think I could cope with any more loss. I feel that people think I’m “better.” That because I’ve been well for a while now that it’s expected to be my normal. Well it’s not. And I’m afraid of what that will mean. I’m overwhelmed with fear and anxiety of what is happening. I don’t want to go back to that dark place.

So what to do? There’s the million-dollar question. I see my psychiatrist regularly. He’s aware that I have a tendency toward winter depression and that that can lead to a full-blown relapse. By altering my medications he’s trying to avoid that. In addition to the meds, he has started me on a natural supplement that apparently behaves as a mood stabilizer. As well, he prescribed a light box. I am to sit in front of this light for 30 minutes a day. It is to combat the effects of less sun and to hopefully lift my mood.
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But today will be today. I can’t change that. I’ve learned that and I accept that. But it doesn’t take away the fear and anxiety of tomorrow. I will do my best to deal with my demons and get through the day as best I can. Though today feels like more than I can handle, I know somehow the clock will tick and the day will pass. I wish for this pain to pass with it.

​To ink or not to ink? That is the question. And if you choose to tattoo, that is a permanent answer. For years I have been tempted to decorate my body with ink. At first it was simply that – a decoration – something pretty that I thought I would like. But what would I really like? Would I like it forever? What if people judged me for having a tattoo? What if I regretted it? Could I handle the pain? Many questions plagued me and the answers weren’t sufficient enough to send me to the local tattoo parlor. Until now.
 
Now I have some of the answers. Over the years there have been a lot of bad times – very low moods, even periods of great depression. And sometimes the only thing that got me through was a mantra of mine: this too shall pass. I decided that would be a good sentiment to always remember.
 
My best-friend also loves the saying. She also has bipolar disorder so the words mean as much to her as they do to me. After many conversations around the potential for a tattoo, we took a step forward. I wanted to design it myself. She suggested a daisy be added. I agreed. I also wanted some swirls around the words – it balanced out the daisy. So I set out to design the image.
 
I played with it for days. Finally, I settled on something I really loved. I decided these words were something I could live with forever. Something more than decoration – it had meaning.
 
Recently, I took my 16-year-old daughter to get a tattoo she has been wanting for a couple of years. Her tattoo is probably twice the size that I want. After watching her deal with the pain – it was on her ribs and waist – I decided if she could handle it, I could handle it too.
 
Being over 50 now, things change. I find I don’t worry so much about what other people think. I tend to focus more on what matters to me. Not only did I want to ink the phrase “this too shall pass,” I also wanted to add the symbol for bipolar disorder, :):  It worked in well right at the end of the phrase. I think I will get this tattoo on my left forearm where I can easily see it. I envision it being something I look to on particularly bad days. I will post a picture of it when I finally take the plunge.
 
My friend wants the same design. We will get them together. She doesn’t live in the same city as I do, so it will likely take some time before we can synchronize our schedules and actually plan a date that works for both of us. That being said, it feels good to have made the decision. Something I can do for myself. Something that will get me through the tough times. Something I can stroke off my bucket list.

(Trigger Warning – suicide)
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Captain’s log, Stardate January 2011. Where unfortunately many have gone before. I’m twenty-six years old and thinking about dying… actually I’m not being entirely truthful. I’m dangling halfway out the fourth floor window of my bedroom in New York City.
 
I don’t really want to die. I just want the emotional pain to stop… and I don’t know how to do that. Hell, two guys in my life—my father and grandfather—each didn’t know how to make their own terrible personal pain stop and now both were, well, dead.
 
My grandfather, Haakon—a Norwegian guy who served in the Royal Air Force (35th Squadron as a tail gunner) in World War II—killed himself in 1966 because of the overwhelming post traumatic stress he suffered because of the war.
 
My father, Douglas—an American guy who was chronically unhappy and an abusive man—killed himself in 2009, the catalyst being a divorce with my mother along with some long-term depression and other mental health issues.
 
How did I get to such a dismal place in my life so quickly, just a month shy of my twenty-seventh birthday? Coming out of secondary school and high on optimism, I thought by the time I reached my mid-twenties I’d have it all together. After a couple of years singing on Broadway, I would have scored a few bit parts on Law & Order, and transitioned seamlessly to being cast with Will Smith in the summer’s biggest blockbuster. After which, my getaway home in the Hamptons would be featured in Better Homes & Gardens, and my face would grace the cover of National Enquirer as Bigfoot’s not-so-secret lover. Not to mention, I’d have my perfect wife and perfect family by my side to share in my success.
 
But instead, “perfect” was unattainable (it always is). I only managed to perform in some of small professional theatre gigs and on one embarrassing reality television show; and over the course of the previous eighteen months my father killed himself, my mother betrayed me and sued me for my father’s inheritance, and my girlfriend of six years broke up with me.
 
This storm of calamity and crisis had ravaged my life… and I wasn’t talking about it to anyone. My silence led to crisis and poor decisions—to the extent that I was hanging out of a fourth story window.
 
Both Haakon and Douglas suffered their pain in silence because of the stigma surrounding talking about mental illness and getting help. I too felt that same stigma—like I’d be seen as “crazy” or “less of a man” if I talked about what I was going through. But I didn’t want to die and so I had to take a chance.
 
I started talking. I pulled myself back inside and first called my mom. She helped me through that initial crisis and we became friends again. She never called me “crazy.” I then started reaching out to the positive friends I had in my life. They hugged me and helped me with open arms. They never told me I was “less than a man.” Soon I got more help by seeing a professional counselor, and by writing down what I was going through in a journal.
 
But this idea of keeping silent continued to bother me. I did some research while in my recovery and found out that each year, suicide kills over one million people worldwide… and that many of those one million never speak up about their emotional pain because of stigma.
 
Dagnabbit (I totally just said that). I had to figure out a way to reach people like that. So, like any other actor, writer, or comedian living in New York City whose life dealt them a crappy hand, I created a one-man show… and it toured theatres and universities in the United States, Canada, England, and Australia—and people were getting help.
 
But I had to keep talking because this isn’t just a Rivedal problem or United States problem… it’s a world problem.
 
I had to get other people to tell their stories, so I started The i’Mpossible Project. Why? Because storytelling is one of our oldest traditions—yes, even older than the hokey pokey. Stories can make us laugh or cry… or both at the same time. They can teach, inspire and even ignite an entire movement.
 
The stories of The i’Mpossible Project are about overcoming obstacles, reengaging with life, and creating new possibilities—a son’s homicide, a transgender man finding love, and even coming back from the brink of suicide (you can read a couple of the stories HERE)… because it’s okay to be struggling, it’s okay to need help; people have your back… there’s hope.
 
It’s been four years since my crisis and life is definitely looking up. The acting and writing thing is going well, I have a great girlfriend; but most important I’m able to give and receive help and love, and with hard work I’m able to stay mentally well—all because I took a risk and told my story.
 
No matter what society says, it’s COOL (as in “okay”) to talk about your feelings. Don’t ever forget that you are important, and your story needs to be heard so we, the human race, can learn how to live and love better.
 
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Josh Rivedal (founder, executive director of The i’Mpossible Project) is an author, actor, playwright, and international public speaker on suicide prevention, mental health, and diversity. He curated the 50-story inspirational anthology The i’Mpossible Project: Reengaging With Life Creating a New You. He wrote and developed the one-man play, Kicking My Blue Genes in The Butt (KMBB), which has toured extensively throughout the U.S., Canada, and the U.K. He writes for the Huffington Post. His memoir The Gospel According to Josh: A 28-Year Gentile Bar Mitzvah, based on KMBB and published by Skookum Hill in 2013, is on The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention’s recommended reading list. Josh’s blog can be found here.

It’s here! September 25, 2015. That’s ten years from the day I was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder. It’s hard to believe it’s been that long, and yet in some ways it seems like a life-time ago. And it really was. It was a different life before I got sick.

Trouble is, bipolar disorder has stolen so many of my memories. It’s hard to visualize my life before my illness. It has taken over that much. I remember big picture things rather than details. For example, I know we were a happy family—my husband and two children. We did a lot of typical family stuff. We did them together. That means I actually participated in activities and outings. Once I was sick that didn’t happen often.

When I was diagnosed my children were only 11 and 6. My illness made a huge impact on my family, my marriage, my career and my life. When I was manic I wasn’t around much. I was out being busy—shopping, partying, working on projects or anything else that was an energy release. Unfortunately, little of that energy was spent at home.

When I was home, it was usually because I was depressed. And if I was depressed I was in bed. And I stayed there. Not moving for days, weeks, even months on end. My children became used to seeing me in that state. To them I was just sad. And it was sad. I missed out on so much—so did they.

But throughout it all, somehow I managed to instill in them my values and I was able to be there for them emotionally. Though I wasn’t able to do all the typical mothering type things like volunteering at school, going on field trips, driving them to friends’ houses, helping with homework, etc., etc., I did what I believe to be even more important. I nurtured them. I groomed them for life. I taught them unconditional love.

Before bipolar I actually had a life. I had friends. I had a career. I was a fun person to be around. I think I was happy. I was a companion to my husband in every way. We went out often. We talked a lot.  We laughed a lot. We were very much a couple and had an active social life. That all changed. In addition to bipolar disorder, I struggle with general anxiety and social anxiety. That keeps me away from most things and most people.

In the time that has passed I’ve learned a lot about bipolar disorder. I have researched the subject beyond what you could imagine. I have applied much of what I have learned. And as the time has passed I have discovered better ways of coping and better ways of predicting and even preventing future episodes. I’ve had to adjust my lifestyle considerably. My life is now a fragment of what it used to be. But I’m okay with that. Most days.

In the ten years that have passed I’ve tried countless medications and even more combinations and doses. I’m probably in the best place I’ve been since this all started. But this illness does not rest and it does not stay the same. It changes with brain chemistry. It changes with situations. Even though my days are mostly good right now, I remain on guard knowing that my mood can fluctuate at a moment’s notice.

I’m not bitter. I don’t hate that I have bipolar disorder. It has taught me a lot. I has given me strength. There are many ways I can still find happiness. But any way you slice it, I’m not the same person I was ten years ago. My husband misses me. I miss me.

A few weeks ago I got back from a trip Down East – Nova Scotia to be exact. Not only was this a 12-day family vacation, but while away we attended a large family reunion on my Dad’s side – 110 people large. Much larger than my social anxiety finds comfortable.

Though challenging at times, I was glad I went. It was fun meeting back up with my much-extended family from Ireland who had also come over for the reunion. These are people who I met in person for the first time last July when I went over to Ireland. I didn’t get to spend as much time as I would have liked with most of them simply because they were much more involved in the organization of the reunion and there were just so many people. But nonetheless it was a successful reunion.

The best part of the weekend for me was the time spent with my closer family. There were about a dozen or so of us all staying at the same bed and breakfast. When formal reunion events were not happening we could be found together enjoying the garden deck, strolling through Shelburne and partying late into the evening at the local watering hole—one night in particular, I did a little too much watering.

People tend to break up into smaller groups. Opportunities existed for great conversation. I thoroughly enjoyed my time with my family. It’s funny though, the conversation always ended up on me and my health. Not that I mind; I’m very open about my bipolar disorder, but I just find it interesting. The same thing happened with my husband. Many people had conversations with him about my health as well. He tells me it’s because they care. I suppose I’m lucky for that.

My point here is not so much that conversations existed, but rather in what was said. The general consensus was that I was doing so much better than the same time last year. Wow. That was a surprise to me. I know I’ve been in a pretty good place for quite a while now. I guess I have just lost track of time and thought I was in the same place as last summer. I think it’s easier for people who see you less often to be able to distinguish subtle changes. And even less-subtle changes.

Reflections are good. I tend to compare myself with how I was when I was really sick. Or sometimes with how I was before I even got sick. So I either think I’m doing a little better or not so much at all, depending on my perspective. It never seems to occur to me that there are varying degrees of better. Despite a successful trip to Ireland last summer, it would appear that I was not as well then as I am now. By all accounts I am simply in a much better place. This surprises me. And it makes me wonder what people thought of me then.

Taking stock of one’s life is important. It gives you the chance to try to look at yourself and your life the way others would. We are generally our own worst critics. I know I am. One bad spell and the whole year is ruined. It also gives us the opportunity to recognize and appreciate the baby steps. Even the smallest of improvements can be noticeable to others. It’s great to have such positive feedback. It warms my soul. If only we could see ourselves through someone else’s eyes.

Life happens. There’s a lot that goes on. Good things like family, children, marriage, and friends; and not-so-good things like financial problems, work pressures, health issues and mental illness—any of these factors can cause stress in your life. Stress is a major factor in bringing about a bipolar episode—either mania or depression. So reducing stress for someone with bipolar is not only a good thing but a crucial thing.

When someone has bipolar, life can be overwhelming. There’s too much going on, or not enough. Everything is too loud, but you can’t hear a thing. The up and down of the mood cycle is exhausting. So, too, is putting on a face—wearing an emotional mask of sorts to hide true feelings. The fatigue and stress demand relief. I escape.

Everyone has different methods of escape. Escapism sometimes has a negative connotation. That is the case with some means, like drugs, alcohol, gambling, over-eating, etc. Even a positive means of escape can have negative results if you do it to excess. Like many things in life, escapism should be practised in moderation. For example, for some people surfing on the internet is not only enjoyable, but it allows you to get sucked in, to the point where you can spend your entire day surfing away. If this happened regularly it would obviously cause problems in your life.

The escapism I’m talking about is positive. It helps people. It helps people escape from their daily life and move to a place of mental stability. Your escape won’t make all your problems go away. But it will give you a break from reality—a break from the exhaustion and stress.

Escapism is a coping mechanism—something I can add to my arsenal of self-care. It is not something I do for long—maybe an hour a day, some days just moments. I don’t let any one thing take over my life. Some forms of escapism include: reading, music, video/on-line games, sports, crafts, movies/T.V., puzzles, gardening, driving, outdoors, exercise, anything creative, yoga, and meditation. I’m sure there are more.

My escape comes in the form of a daily soap—The Young and the Restless. You may laugh and brush aside the abilities of a soap to help my bipolar disorder, but you shouldn’t. For that one hour I am immersed in the world that is Genoa City—the world where Victor and Nikki reign over everything Newman and pursue anything Abbott. It’s a world where I don’t hurt. I don’t have problems. And there’s no stress. I am swept away by the tales and woes of the Genoa city elite. And at the same time I am swept away from my worries and responsibilities of the day. Escape is more than something I allow myself, it is something I need.

Sort through the elements of your life and discover ways to bring some peace to your mind—some quiet to your life. Give yourself permission to escape.

It’s difficult to see. My eyes are full of tears. My vision is blurry. The tears eventually escape and roll down my cheeks. My fingers slip on the keyboard. They’re wet from wiping the tears away. The more I wipe, the more they stream. It’s a challenge to speak. It’s difficult to form words without forming more tears. The tears continue to pour out of me. I feel the pressure behind my eyes and in my temples. That soon creates a migraine. I feel the tightness in my heart. That makes me sad. Things are changing. Change is hard.

Change is difficult for many people—bipolar or not. But for those of us with bipolar disorder, change can bring about an episode—either of mania or depression. Key areas for controlling bipolar disorder and ensuring stability include managing stress and living with a strict daily routine. Change causes problems in both these areas which is why it can lead to a bipolar episode. In this situation, change is the trigger.

My son is in Europe—that’s half way around the world. That’s a big deal. He has finished working in Switzerland and has been joined by his girlfriend. They are now travelling together around Europe for a while. I know he’s having the time of his life. And I’m thrilled for him and so proud of the man he has become, but this has been a huge change in my life.

When he was home, he worked mostly evenings, leaving us alone together to fill the day. He’s a sports nut and mostly watched T.V., but my laptop and desk are just feet away. He was there to chat with, share T.V. shows with and sometimes sit together. But most importantly he was just there. I could count on him if I needed him. For example, to answer the door for me—a seemingly simple task, but one I don’t do easily. I desperately miss his company, and fear that I am no longer needed.

I guess this is what they call “empty-nest syndrome.” What to do with the time and companionship that we used to share. I know it’s important not to dwell on the negative. My bipolar education has taught me that. But when your first-born has stretched his wings so far, it’s difficult to choke back the tears.

Recognizing that I’m going through a big change is important. The knowledge of that will help me deal with my rising emotions. I will be diligent in maintaining my daily routine, practising self-care, and trying to focus on the good that is in this situation. Positive thinking is paramount in keeping away my bipolar demons. I have come so far. It is crucial that I don’t let this event spiral me into depression. I will do my best to embrace this change.

Like heart disease or diabetes, bipolar disorder can also benefit from a healthy diet. Because of medications and depressive lifestyles, people with bipolar disorder can be more susceptible to weight gain than the average person. I’ve read dozens of websites on the subject and the following is the best summary I can give you on food and nutrition.

Firstly, a healthy diet for someone with bipolar disorder looks very similar to good nutrition for the average person. It includes fruits, vegetables, grains, lean meats, fish, eggs, low-fat dairy, soy and nuts/seeds.

Other key areas in your diet include the following –

Caffeine – Caffeine is a stimulant. It can cause sleep problems, and good sleep is critical for people with bipolar. As well, because caffeine is a stimulant it can sometimes actually contribute to a manic episode. It is recommended not to stop caffeine abruptly, but rather to taper down the use.

Alcohol – Alcohol is a depressant and can contribute to episodes of depression. It can also interact negatively with medication.

Sugar – Blood-sugar levels can contribute to mood swings as your blood-sugar levels rise and decrease. Avoid large amounts of sugar or so-called junk food.

Salt & Water – Salt plays a role in your system. Normally added salt is not a good thing, however when you are taking Lithium, the salt / lithium balance needs to be controlled. Your doctor should conduct regular blood tests to check your lithium level. Also related to the salt balance is water. It is important to keep your body hydrated to aid in the salt balance.

Omega 3 & 6 – Fish oil is good for the brain. It’s healthy for anyone, but even more so for someone with bipolar. Fish oil has been said to lessen the symptoms of bipolar disorder – especially stress – and stress is a key trigger in bipolar disorder.

Magnesium – Magnesium is a mood balancer. It is said to have a chemical similarity to lithium.

High-fat meats – High-fat meats should be eaten in moderation. They can lower the sedative effect of some medication. They can also delay the time medication is being absorbed.

You should also avoid natural supplements, like St. John’s Wort, if you are on medication. They could negatively interact with your medication. Grapefruit juice needs to be avoided when on certain medications because of the severe increase in blood levels. If you are taking an MAOI (monoamine oxidose inhibitor) you need to watch your diet carefully. For example, you will need to avoid some cheese, aged meat, red wine, and more.

The University of Michigan recommends: folic acid, vitamins B, B6, B12, D, E, Thiamin, Calcium, Selenium, Zinc, Magnesium, Omega 3, and Tryptophan.

For any supplement, vitamin or medication, always talk to your doctor or pharmacist to determine the best diet for you. Always do your best to control bipolar disorder. Food and nutrition is a great place to start.

Sources: WebMD, Everydayhealth, The University of Michigan

I was so surprised to open up my Facebook page the other day and see that my blog had been given a Liebster Award. I would like to thank Elena Peters (from Fabulously 50 and Living with Batman) for the nomination. From what I understand the Liebster award is given from blogger to blogger—a way of recognizing our peers. Some say the award is to be given to new bloggers, but I was told this is not carved in stone, so I have chosen a number of seasoned bloggers as well because they keep me inspired. Of course, it is always up to them whether or not to accept. There are rules that come along with this award. They are listed below. I hope you like reading the answers to the questions posed to me. This is a fun process, enjoy.

My Liebster Award:

Here are the rules:
1. Acknowledge and thank the blog who nominated you.
2. Look for or create an award image that you like, and post it on your blog.
3. Answer the 11 questions asked by the person/blog who nominated you.
4. Nominate 11 blogs.
5. Let the bloggers know that you nominated them.
6. Give them 11 questions to answer.

Here are the questions I had to answer:
1. Without doing an internet search, what does “Ich liebe dich” mean? Best guess.
A—Something German: freedom every day?? Wild guess.
2. If you could meet one blogger, who would it be?
A—Allie Burke—I think she’s cool.
3. What non-electronic device could you not live without?
A—Pen and paper.
4. What did you want to be when you grew up at age 10?
A—A dancer.
5. What is your secret indulgence?
A—Chocolate—but it’s not so secret.
6. What famous person has been in your dreams?
A—Jon Bon Jovi, Tom Cruise and Justin Hartley—I dream a lot.
7. Which super hero would you like to be?
A—None—I don’t like super heroes.
8. What age would you like to be frozen at forever?
A—38—fun-loving and pre-bipolar diagnosis.
9. What model car best describes you?
A—I love my BMW.
10. Which period of time would you have liked to live in?
A—I think the 50s.
11. If you had to give up one sense, which one would it be?
A—Smell—by process of elimination.

I give a Liebster Award to the following:
1. Bipolar Me: bipolarjan.wordpress.com
2. Susan Cook Zarit: BravelyBipolar.wordpress.com
3. Bipolar and Beyond: bipolarandbeyond.com
4. Bipolar Whispers: BipolarWhispers.wordpress.com
5. Thrill Writing: Thrillwriting.blogspot.ca
6. Rachel In The OC: rachelintheoc.com
7. Julie Fast: bipolarhappens.com/bhblog
8. Allie Burke: haphazardcoffee.com
9. Nicole Lyons: thelithiumchronicles.org
10. Sarah Fader: oldschoolnewschoolmom.com
11. Charlotte Walker: purplepersuasion.wordpress.com

My questions for each of you are:
1. What was the first thing you wrote?
2. Why did you decide to write a blog?
3. What country would you like to visit that you haven’t already?
4. If you could have a super-power, what would it be?
5. What is your favourite book (I know that may be hard)?
6. What are you usually wearing when you write your blog?
7. Who is your favourite singer/band?
8. What is the best song to fast-dance to?
9. What is the name of the person with whom you shared your first kiss?
10. Where were you when you kissed?
11. What is your favourite season and why?

Have fun and pass it on.