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Last year this time I delivered the Commencement address to my alma mater, Saint Mary’s College in Notre Dame, Indiana. Since it is graduation season, I thought I’d repost it. Thank you, President Mooney. And thank you to all the professors and staff of Saint Mary’s, especially those who have changed my life: Joe Incandela,…

For a long while I was afraid to write things such as “I am mentally ill” or “I am bipolar.” I was afraid of labels. By calling myself a manic-depressive would I trap my psyche in “sick” mode? By accepting my diagnosis of bipolar disorder, would I prevent healing? By writing the words “I am…

“On Wednesday, I will leave my husband of twelve years. He is a depressive. He uses prescribed medication and has available to him a phalanx of good therapists. But he also self-medicates with alcohol. He disdains therapy. He refuses to confront his disease.” She communicated this partly as a response to my MLK piece (on…

I have decided to dedicate a post on Thursday to therapy, and offer you the many tips I have learned on the couch. They will be a good reminder for me, as well, of something small I can concentrate on. Many of them are published in my book, “The Pocket Therapist: An Emotional Survival Kit.”…
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