I’m not known for my cheery everything’s-going-to-be-OK-puppies-rainbows-lollipops perspective. In fact, I’m against such perspectives. I find them disingenuous, phony, or seriously ill-informed. Save the rose-colored glasses for Sir Elton John, thank-you. I find smiling, being positive and telling people how great everything is to be just another chore on my list of things to do today when I’m already busy just trying to keep breathing and possibly pay rent.

I am lucky enough to have many people out there who love my writing, love my perspective and yes, possibly even love me. Sometimes these people contact me privately, sometimes publically, but either way, I certainly appreciate all the positivity. On the other hand, there is a small, yet amazingly vocal, number of people who hate what I have to say, and yes, possibly hate me. These people tend to denounce me, and what I have to say, publically. And honestly, I don’t mind the differing opinions. Disagree with a point I’ve made? No problem, that’s what the comments are for. But zealous, hateful stances on mental illness, treatments and psychiatry tend to hurt those with mental illness far more than it helps.

My brain is a finite resource. Well, the grey, gooey thing in the skull is finite for everyone. But my brain’s ability to think reasonably is a finite resource. When I write it thinks, thinks, thinks, and then there is a dramatic thud. My brain then stops thinking.

I’m bipolar. Now wait, before you start to tell me about how “I’m a person with bipolar disorder,” you might want to know, I don’t care. I use the English language in a non-politically correct way. Call it a quirk. I have a new one for you: I am stalked by bipolar disorder. Kind of like an angry ex-boyfriend for whom you have a restraining order but insists on constantly scaring and tormenting you anyway.

Women are classic “I’m sorry” – ers. We’re taught to say “I’m sorry” from the time we can utter the words. We are the peacekeepers, claiming fault so no one else has to. We have to apologize for emotions because we’re “overemotional.” We have to apologize for our needs because we’re “clingy.” We’re sorry for our behavior, our significant other’s behavior and our children’s behavior. We are simply, sorry. And most women in 2011 realize this habit is one borne of the past and is no longer relevant in our everyday world. We realize we are not “sorry” at the drop of a hat or a glass of wine spilled by a drunken significant other. We realize there is a time to be sorry and there are times not to be. Unfortunately for me, I feel like I have to be sorry all the time, for every tear, for every thought, because if I’m not, people will leave.

Due to my frequent flirtations with treatment-resistance over the years, I have discussed ECT with a variety of doctors. To the first doctor, and the one after, I said simply, “I would rather die than do that”. Well, as it turns out when faced with death, you’ll do a lot of things you didn’t think you would.

Naturally, as you've read part one of bipolar disorder and working from home from last week you've already created a workspace at home, created a work routine and put away distractions. Now you're all set for tips on getting actual work done at home, with a mentally ill brain.

I, like many, no longer work in an office; I work from home. My commute each morning goes something like: bed, to the bathroom, to the kitchen, to the couch, to the desk. Barring a traffic jam between my cats and me over the milk, it’s a pretty quick affair. And while working at home does have many advantages for someone with a mental illness, working from home with bipolar disorder also poses its own challenges.

I was asked about how I have continued to work even through major bipolar storms. I found when I wrote about this topic, pages and pages were filled, so we’re splitting it in half. Today is part one: how to work an office job with bipolar disorder. Some of you know I’ve had office jobs in the tech industry for most of my working career and only recently made a shift. And in those years I’ve had various severities of bipolar disorder. And what I’ve learned is this: working with bipolar disorder comes down to one thing - being stubborn.

Last week was my birthday. I didn't do anything or mark it in any way. That is mostly because, on my birthday, I look back and see bipolar behind me and I look forward and see bipolar in front of me.