There is a persistent myth that having bipolar disorder means you have a “broken identity,” or even, “split personality.” I would imagine the term “manic depression” (an older term for bipolar disorder) conjures up these images for some people. But I’m here to tell you, my identity is just fine as is my personality.

Today I was made aware of a site that went up specifically to make fun of, and show hatred towards, those with bipolar disorder. Specifically, the site is aimed at me and all those who use psychiatric services in the treatment of mental illness. Whoever wrote the site feels it's okay to take advantage of people with an illness, people who are in pain. Well, it's not OK. We're not a joke. We are people. Real, flesh and blood people. And we do not accept your hatred. I do not accept your hatred.

Last night I was feeding my cats and thinking suicidal thoughts - I like to call that a Wednesday night. And I was thinking to myself that no one (save others in my position) understands what that is like - to go from some sort of normal person in the daytime to a sobbing, suicidal headcase at night. I thought about the fact that I have spent eight years talking about this very disease, this very state, this very problem, and yet still, people don't get it. No matter how many words I use, no matter how I phrase it, people simply do not understand. So what do we do with the lack of understanding by others?

Happy new year to everyone. Thanks to all for joining me for a wonderful year of information, interaction and debate. I have learned a lot and I hope you have too. But in case you missed it, here are the top ten articles people were reading from Breaking Bipolar last year:

Happy holidays, all. I am back from my family sojourn and feeling exhausted from it. Which is odd, actually, because nothing stressful happened. I worked, we ate, we played cards we pretended to be happy (some more than others) and the holiday passed by. And a giant "meh" was heard by all. And yet still I find myself crippled with exhaustion and stress post-holiday. Why, exactly, is that?

Recently someone who I consider a friend had some rather unfortunate things to say about me, including that I'm narcissistic. This, I do not believe to be true. Not even a little. Nevertheless, this particular insult echoed inside my brain over and over until I was sure it was stabbing the inside of my head with heated spikes. I couldn't let it go. I tried, really I did. I told myself it's not about me. It's just one person's opinion at one moment. It isn't true. And so on, and so forth. But my brain had a death-grip on the insult and refused to let it slip. So what do you do when you're obsessive, bipolar brain turns to thoughts of crazy?

Recently, someone who was new to the world of bipolar disorder asked me if there was a cure for bipolar disorder or if he had to live like this forever. I had to, of course, tell him there is no cure. I felt like I was telling him his dog was about to die. I felt like knowing this, he might give up.

One of the most terrifying things about mental illness is that you can no longer trust what you feel. Oh sure, you feel it just as sure as day, but can you trust it enough to act on it? Not really. At least, not if you want to keep your job, friends, marriage and so on. You can no longer simply feel and act. Now you must feel, think and then contemplate acting. It's exhausting and not a particularly reasonable thing to be expected to do.

I write an obscene amount. Here, plus my blog plus I write for other blogs and do technical articles. Oh, and I'm working on a book. This is very difficult though as I've found that a highly symptomatic bipolar brain turns into something more akin to a bipolar rock.

If at first you don't succeed, failure may be your style. Quentin Crisp I think this quote is funny. It made me smile. So I posted it on Facebook and Twitter. People didn't seem to like that. People seemed to think it was a general statement of affairs and there was something wrong with it because it wasn't "positive." It wasn't "recovery focused." But seriously, why is everything a serious statement on serious issues? Why is everything about our lives and our recovery and our mental illness? Why can't we just laugh at ourselves?