What if, just for now, you were able to shrink your abuser's voice down to nothing? What would it be like if you stopped imagining that those hurtful words came from a place of love or concern? What would it feel like to know in your heart and mind that what that abuser said had no relevance to your reality, that your abuser was the one in La-La Land, not you? What would it be like to trust your own perceptions, to move about freely without fear of reprisal?

Living with anorexia, I've been struggling to get to a healthy weight for several years. As I learned from my doctor, reaching your goal weight is a key part of eating disorder recovery. Watch this video to understand why.

Some dreams are bizarre--my favorite odd one involved a coworker and me being chased through the mall by ninjas, with multiple Broadway musical songs to comment on the situation. Most dreams, however, have a meaning--especially when you interpret them yourself.

I was asked about how I have continued to work even through major bipolar storms. I found when I wrote about this topic, pages and pages were filled, so we’re splitting it in half. Today is part one: how to work an office job with bipolar disorder. Some of you know I’ve had office jobs in the tech industry for most of my working career and only recently made a shift. And in those years I’ve had various severities of bipolar disorder. And what I’ve learned is this: working with bipolar disorder comes down to one thing - being stubborn.

After several phone calls and missed fax transmissions, I finally had Bob's most recent lab results in my hand and his psychiatrist's. His lithium level was surprisingly low. His BUN, however, was high--enough to generate concern he may be developing lithium sensitivity. His psychiatrist suggested the labs be reviewed by his general practitioner prior to making our next move. I had forgotten long-term lithium use can lead to kidney failure. I have since added that to my list of Things to Worry About at 3 AM, and asked myself the question: Am I sacrificing my child's physical health for his mental health? Can't he have both?

Last week was my birthday. I didn't do anything or mark it in any way. That is mostly because, on my birthday, I look back and see bipolar behind me and I look forward and see bipolar in front of me.

In the beginning, he told me stories about the hardships he'd endured, and I thought I could be the one to show him what happiness felt like; I thought I could coax his mind away from the anger he held and fill his heart with love despite the pain he felt inside. I wanted him to have brightness and beauty in his life to rival the heartbreak and anger. I never thought I would become the source of his anger, the reason for his pain, or hated.

"My life was quite unbearable ... I tried ending my life several times at 8 years old," says Paula of surviving child abuse at the hands of her mother, who had Dissociative Identity Disorder. Perplexed by her mother's erratic swings from extreme violence to utter confusion to gentle kindness, Paula didn't understand her mom until she saw the movie Sybil.

The road to eating disorder recovery has been a long and difficult journey for me. I often have felt lost in the fog of anorexia, unable to relate to my husband or other people. I have struggled, at times, to even think when I was in my worst restrictive periods. Often, I would wake up and wish I had died in my sleep. I was that tired of fighting anorexia. Today, I feel triumphant. I reached my healthy weight this week, and my doctor says I am ready to move onto the next step of recovery: peeling off the layers of anorexia and discovering my true self.

I'm somewhat reluctant to blog about suicide, but I have decided to put a few thoughts down. They're rushed, unfinished thoughts because that's the nature of the situation: a friend attempted suicide a few days ago. As I sat at the computer, contemplating what to say this week, I couldn't think about much else.