Mental illness is often connected to anxiety and its best bud insomnia. Often, it is believed to be a concurrent illness--connected to the primary diagnosis-- bipolar disorder for example. In my life it is hard to separate anxiety from insomnia. They invade my life together. Sometimes they hang around for a night or two and leave me in peace, and sometimes they signal something bigger. Relapse. An Example of Insomnia and Anxiety...

It's been a fantastic Fall so far in British Columbia, Canada, where I dwell. It's nice and sunny and has made me smile. And now it is pouring rain. And I like rain, the sound of it hitting my skylights, but I do not like the slow change in my mood that never seems to forget about me each year. And each year, I am somehow surprised that Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) has slowly inched its way into my life---again-- and each year, my mood seems to fall along with the leaves.

Picture this: A moment ago I was staring at the blank text field going "Ummm...Uhhh...Dammit!" And then I was coughing a rather nasty cough that lives deep inside my chest and scratches my throat. I slowly move my hand toward cough drops which have proved to be generally useless. I have a headache and realize the Tylenol is downstairs. I wonder if I can make it downstairs. A box of tissues sit beside me where my notebooks usually are. I look up "how long does a cold last?" Apparently, seven to ten days. I am on day three. The website recommends chicken soup. I hate soup. I then type in, fingers moving rather slowly: "depression related to the common cold" although this does not feel common --I think I might be dying. But I am sort of dramatic with these things... I'm done telling about how crappy I feel (insert sneeze here) but I have always felt I suffer from depression when I am sick. Am I alone in this?

Do. Not. Apologize. For. Living. With. A. Mental Illness. Remember that brand Nike and their slogan "Just Do It!" ? Well, "Don't Do It!" Instead, explain it. "I've Met Someone New and Important, Shouldn't I explain?"

Okay. Take a minute and think about it. What comes to mind? Immediately, I think of when I was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder. And then I recall the years that followed: a feeling of loneliness that never seemed to leave me. A feeling I still struggle with. Even as I write these words and with the understanding that those who read them probably do understand. But it's not that easy--it never is.

If you read enough of these blogs, you might know that I write what I feel. But this often involves a healthy mix of education and sarcasm. In line with my personality, I suppose. But this topic is different. Suicide lives in the darkest parts of my mind; places I cannot avoid but also want to remember. I want to remember losing my very best friend and my cousin to suicide. My favorite cousin. Maybe I should preface this by telling you it will be a bit raw. But suicide is raw. It hurts. And it hurts to write this.

OK. First, I should probably take a deep breath and think about this topic before I start throwing out adjectives. I hate the word Antipsychotic (oops!). I hate it as much as I would hate being deprived of chocolate and coffee - A heck of a lot. I have not used my 10,000 page thesaurus to define a word in a while now so, I cannot lie, I am looking forward to what defines this word.

Mental illness is commonly connected to stress and anxiety. Before a person receives treatment for a mental illness, he often experiences stress due to the uncommon behavior caused by the mental illness symptoms. Symptoms can cause behavior changes that initiate feelings of guilt, shame, and depression. Understanding the connection between stress and mental illness is important but it isn't always easy to separate the symptoms.

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?

What a silly title, right? After we reach adult maturity--hopefully before--we understand that the word 'normal' means very little. It is socially constructed and does not do anyone any good. But that does not mean it is not attached to our psyche, our feelings, in one way or another.