I have been fighting a severe anxiety condition for most of my adult life. While I am finally on the road to recovery, this illness has stolen many years of my life. Fifteen years ago, I was working in retail, living independently and supporting myself financially. At 25 the symptoms of my anxiety disorder became uncontrollable and more severe, to the point where I was initially connected to the mental health system. I felt as if things quickly spiralled out of control, putting me in a place where I had isolated myself from others and struggled with agoraphobia, depression and thoughts of suicide. 

I saw the signs and chose to put them aside as I thought things would surely get better over time. They didn’t! Just a little over a year ago my own son, at the tender and vulnerable age of 14, was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. Getting the official diagnosis brought me both relief and distress. Relief because after witnessing since birth my son’s unique but worrisome ways of thinking and then have it escalate until he ultimately fell into a severe manic episode, the diagnosis made so much sense. Distress because now my son may be labelled with a “mental” problem for the remainder of his life. I also worry he will become ill again. The doctors told us “Alex” was likely predisposed to his illness because Bipolar Disorder runs in the family and its hereditary tendencies were bound to strike again. Alex was one of the not-so-lucky ones.