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:

A little while back I went through an amazing phase of remission. I started a new medication and it worked like magic in a very short period of time. In short, it was a miracle. At the beginning, I kept the miracle to myself. Others noticed I had changed but no one said anything and neither did I. But eventually, a few weeks passed and I just had to tell people how great I felt. I thought I was "safe." I thought the remission would be around for a while. I thought I would be able to announce the good news and then not disappoint people when the treatment stopped working. I, of course, was wrong. As fast as the remission came, it left. And I couldn't get it back. It felt like I was being punished about being happy about, well, being happy.

Sunday marked the beginning of the Mental Illness Awareness Week in the US and Canada. These weeks happen around the world at different times of the year. In the US, this week was set aside by Congress to bring together organizations fighting for the awareness of mental illness. In Canada, Mental Illness Awareness Week was established by the Canadian Psychiatric Association. And while large organizations run these national campaigns, there are things that every one of us, as individuals, can do to help.

Recently a commenter asked how to tell her boyfriend about her bipolar disorder. Unfortunately, this commenter had negative past experiences in dealing with her bipolar disorder in relationships. In fact, people had broken up with her because of her disorder. A scene that is far too common in mental illness. So, when is the right time to tell the person you're dating you have bipolar disorder?

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?

Hi. Thanks for joining us as we expose the biggest myths in mental illness. Today's myth: a bad childhood causes mental illness.

I like my job. I get to write for a living which is something many writers don't get to do. And moreover, I get to write about things that matter to me. Also a great luxury for many writers. These are pleasures as are the vast majority of people I get to meet. I do have the great displeasure, though, of seeing vehement hatred for those with a mental illness. People who hate show up here, on my blog and elsewhere. People with a hatred for bipolar disorder seem to seek places to express their hatred. But hatred of the mentally ill is simply another prejudice. Hatred of people with bipolar is the same as racism and just as unacceptable.

I've discussed how I like to use the word "crazy" and don't find it derogatory. Us crazies, we have to stick together, I might say. I've also said that people can use any word to hurt you. Don't tell me you're a secretary. But some people use a mental illness diagnosis as a weapon. Some people insult and abuse with the facts of illness and treatment.

If you follow me here, or particularly elsewhere, you might have noticed there are some very vocal people who hate me. Mental illness is contentious, and some people take it to a personal level. That’s people for you. Sometimes I talk about these people. I call them “the nasties.” But today is not about them. Today is about celebrating all the wonderful, amazing people who support me, Breaking Bipolar and the mental health community in general.

I’ve written about this several times, but never said it quite this directly: No one is a diagnosis. No one fits the criteria for “bipolar” or “depression” exactly. No one is a “Patient Like You.” It’s why someone only has to have five out of eight characteristics to be diagnosed with depression. Because there is recognition within the medical community that “depression” isn’t a single thing, much as “bipolar” isn’t a single thing. Those words represent diagnoses that exist along a spectrum. In writings elsewhere I have suggested what I call a “dimensional” diagnosis. (And this is probably because I’m a computer science-y kind of gal.) Basically you have symptoms and diagnoses that exist along multiple axes. Then, depending on where the dots cluster, you essentially have a Venn diagram of diagnoses. It’s OK if you didn’t quite follow that. I know. It’s complicated. But humans are complicated creatures. I like chocolate ice cream, you like vanilla. Humans are a heterogeneous bunch. Why then, if we understand this, do we have names in the first place? Is the term “bipolar” really even useful? In short, yes, it is. And yes, we need those labels, even if they are ill-fitting.