Honesty

Here's something I haven't had the balls to mention here yet; I have been dealing with diagnosed bipolar disorder for the past 11 or 12 years.

The word "diagnosed" is important here because I have memories of being depressed as early as elementary school.

In my real life I have no problem talking about my diagnosis, my treatment, my path to where I am now; but here I felt like I had to keep it secret because I know that my Mother was was always just that bit embarrassed when I started talking about my struggles.

For some reason She didn't think it was an appropriate topic of casual conversation at a family gathering, or a social event, or when we randomly ran into acquaintances we hadn't seen in years on the street, or in the mall or the grocery store or...well you get the idea.

Besides Bipolar Disorder I also suffer from the lack of a filter for my diarrhea of the mouth.

I've never felt ashamed of this though.

Well maybe not never, I suppose there are some people in my life (former bosses, university professors, store clerks, my favourite local farmer, the egg man) who didn't need to know EVERYTHING about my issues.

My ability to be totally candid is something I'm sorta proud of. So, from this moment on I'll share it with you all.