I remember being a little girl--my hair was curly and my mother put pink ribbons in it. Apparently, I was pretty cute, but I'm certain it's a mothers blessing to honestly believe they have the best looking little ones. That aside, I remember a life in which I was not afraid of the future. I was excited! I had lots and lots of plans, some of them secret and some of them I told everyone I could. When I grew up I wanted to be a doctor and an actress and as pretty as the babysitter who occasionally took care of my siblings and I. I was not afraid of the future; I was still young and pure as only children are. I had not yet been diagnosed with a chronic mental illness.

This July, I published a book, The Third Sunrise: A Memoir of Madness. It was a long three-year process sprinkled with bouts of depression and anxiety, but happiness as well. I had always wanted to write a book about my experience with mental illness and addiction. The reality of it--exposing my life on paper--was much harder than I had originally thought. I suppose I was a little naïve?

When you were first diagnosed with a mental illness, you were probably pretty confused. Life became sort of foreign. Sometimes, the past felt like a preferable place to be, even if we were sick. After all, we didn't always know we were ill. But after we come to a place of acceptance, we learn a few things and one of them is understanding signs of a mental health relapse.

The title of this blog probably does not come as a surprise: When your mind shuts down your body reacts as well. It is not a positive reaction. It is directly connected to our brain chemistry. The neurons that are not acting as they should--a chemical imbalance. Simple, Right?

When you are diagnosed with a mental illness one of the first things you are told is that you need mediation in order to become well. And this is true--particularly with the diagnosis of chronic mental illness-- but medication does not ensure stability. It would certainly be nice if it did. Coming to the Conclusion That Psychiatric Medication Cannot 'Cure' Mental Illness

Earlier this week, I write a post Mental Illness Recovery: Will I Stay Well? Following the post, I started thinking. I asked myself that very question: Will I stay well? The answer? No, not forever. Forever would be nice. I then wondered how I could become comfortable with this. Is that possible?

I am twenty-seven years old as I write these words. I own my own home and I have a dog I adore. I cook and I clean and I talk to my family on a regular basis.

I try not to ask myself "Will I stay well?" too often. But it sort of lurks in the back of my psyche until, finally, I am confronted with it. That's part of living with a mental illness--whether it is chronic or in passing--and it's tough. Really tough. But what about before you were properly diagnosed?

I'm not sure, are you? Ask yourself the loaded question: "I have a mental illness. Am I really sick?" When I ask myself this question my mind conjures up this: "No, sometimes life just gets a bit tough, but doesn't it for us all?" And then my inner psyche rambles on about how the disease of mental illness, the 'sick' part of it, is nothing like, say, a broken leg or bout of pneumonia. But that's not the point.

I have touched on this before. A couple of times. Other bloggers on healthyplace.com have as well because it is important. Very important. It is part of living with--and recovering from--a mental illness. Living With A Mental Illness Makes Us Feel Different