I believe that my first Major Depressive Episode happened when I was in High School. I woke up one beautiful day, the sun was shining as I looked out of the window. But I felt dry, hollow, dead inside. I eventually was diagnosed as having Bipolar II Disorder, but my journey there was long and hard. Even then, it took me years of spiraling downward, ever more crazed, my illness gaining some sort of incredible force each episode, until I finally sought the kind of help that I'd needed decades before.

My parents had been told by the British School of Brussels, that if I were to remain enrolled, I would be required to see a psychologist. Being the sensible Brits that they were, they offered me the choice of that, or attending a boarding school, then named Wadhurst College for Young Ladies. I was ten and opted for the latter.

It took them until the third time that I was institutionalized to visit me in the hospital. By this point, I was undergoing Electro-Shock-Therapy, which I'd elected whilst in a mental ward suffering from suicidal depression. It was not a choice I would make normally. After twenty-two "treatments" I was still a mess. Only I couldn't remember anything, which took many months of hard work to repair.  To this day, there are massive holes in my memory. This would be the only visit my parents would make, despite many stays over the next eight years.

I know two young women who are fighting mental illness with everything that they can bring to it. In their case, they are blessed to have their deeply concerned families along to help them.

My friend "Nola" was 302'ed (involuntarily committed) recently and ended up in what I can only say was a fabulous ward at Pennsylvania Hospital. When I went to visit her, I met her parents, who'd driven in from Chicago to be by her side. She's been released, and went to stay with them until she's stable enough to return to Philadelphia.

My other friend, "Ellen", left Philadelphia to be in the care of her family. Her illness is dark, complex and twists her mind into hearing and believing things that aren't of this reality. Right now, this has created too much stress for her to be able to function without support.

My path to wellness was only possible because I have incredible friends in Cricket and Betty the Siggi. Betty once gave me a corny plaque, which stated, "Friends are our chosen family". In my case, this is bittersweet and so very true.