I hesitated to use the word war in the title. I considered using the word struggle. But war is defined by combat: You are at war with your mental illness. Sometimes, every day. Struggle means many things, but war feels appropriate. You can win a war, perhaps struggle along the way, but land on your feet nonetheless.

Hi, my name is Jack, and I suffer from depression. I was first diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder about seven years ago, but I’ve been waging war on this brain disease for a long time. And it is a disease. It is not a character flaw. It is not an excuse for my shortcomings. It is not a spiritual defect. It is not a case of the occasional blues. It is real, and it is painful — physically painful. It is maddening and it can be gut wrenching. It is an illness just as diabetes is an illness. I call it a war because war is hell, and so is clinical depression.

The stigma attached to mental illness is powerful because of ignorance.  But is living openly with mental illness in an effort to change the stigma a good idea?  More Than Borderline's Becky Oberg considers this.

Disclosing an anxiety disorder matters, because a lot of people feel they don’t. And you should tell the people that matter to you, the people that form the everyday backbone of your relationships, whether that's in the form of colleagues or more intimate members of family or friendship circles. Tell them because choosing not to takes something away from those relationships, because an anxiety disorder is a significant part of your life and some of the healing comes in accepting that.

Eating disorders can be extremely isolating and lonely. Counting calories or throwing up your food after you eat makes it hard to be around other people. There is the fear that you might eat too much, or that someone will notice that you are just pretending to eat. It takes a lot of energy to hide your eating disorder symptoms, and that makes it easier to stay home and disconnect from your friends. I have been very lucky. My friends know about my struggles with anorexia, and we have stayed close in spite of my attempts to isolate and hide at times. This week I was again reminded how important friends are to me, and how they play a role in helping me stay in recovery.

Sometimes, my frustration at Bob gets the better of me, and I hit him. Or pull his hair, or pinch him, or kick him, or any of a number of physically abusive gestures. Fortunately, he's usually asleep during these attacks--and so am I--because it only happens in my dreams.

Sometimes electronics can fail us. Sometimes the internet goes down. Sometimes the power blacks out. Sometimes your computer hard drive gives up the ghost. And sometimes those nifty calendars we put in the cloud that happily sync with our portable devices & home computers get eaten by server failure. What are we to do?

Last week, my son Marc asked me to buy him some clothes for winter. I do not have the money to do that and I asked my ex for money for school clothes. I didn't want to ask him, but Marc needed clothes and I don't have the money required, so I asked. 45 minutes after I sent the text, my ex replied, "No." I expected that answer, so I began texting back, "Okey dokey." But right before I hit the send button, my friend asked me, "Kellie, is that what you really think?"

Doctors should take every patient seriously, but they don't. How can you get your doctor to take you seriously? Lets start with this recent comment (edited for length): I have a masters degree in pharmaceutical science and have worked with clinical research for 11 years . . . I feel that maybe I get to close to be on the "same level" as my psychiatrist. . . I am afraid my doctor might think that I have better control of my bipolar "state" than I have. I do not have control . . . I want her to think of me as THE patient. But on the other hand I do want to be involved and discuss treatments etc. . . I think that she does not realize how bad I am right now. No one does. I am that happy, funny outgoing guy Johan. They just do not look behind the mask . . . It is strange that no one takes it seriously when you say you have suicidal thoughts. Mutilation . . . My doctor knows that I am depressed. But why does she not realize how bad it is? So, how do you get your doctor to take your seriously when you often appear alright to your doctor? Can your intellect actually do you a disservice?

I’ve always thought I was a good employee: I do good work, on time, and people generally like working with me. I say “generally” because at times in the past I’ve been a moody procrastinator who resists being told what to do. I’ve also burst into tears when given negative feedback from a boss and cursed at a coworker in front of several of our colleagues. Am I losing credibility here?