I used to be mentally ill, now I’m mentally fit.

We’ll cover to that “used to be” in a bit. First let me share the beginnings of my fall into bipolar madness.  In 1992, while living in Los Angeles, a depression appeared in my life. Without expecting it and without knowing why, I would cry. It happened most frequently during my morning commute. Then in the parking lot outside my job, I would push it down and go in to work. One particular life event triggered the emotional fits: my thirtieth birthday. Turning 30 meant real adulthood. But I didn’t feel grown. I still felt like a baby. I yearned for parenting from a father who had never taken care of me (and never would).