I'm 42 and I've been thinking about my children ages 18 and 14. About 20 years ago, I was admitted to mental health for a week. Then, 19 years ago, I was admitted to mental health again for a week. Two years ago, I had yet another week's admission. My kids have known me to go to therapy and see psychiatrists their whole life. They have seen me manic and depressive, but mostly depressive. They have witnessed me become almost disabled with this illness. They have seen me lose everything because of medical bills. I look back and I wonder if my kids think I'm just plain crazy. Maybe I should have allowed my psychiatrist 20 years ago to have me permanently admitted. Maybe I would have spared my children the heartache.