When I was in school I wanted to be a lot of things, a nurse, an undertaker (weird for a child, I know), a painter, a concert pianist, a writer. But then for a long time I didn’t want to be or do anything. Depression took away my hopes for the future, all of my dreams, all of my drive to try. I thought that I would amount to nothing, that I was useless and couldn’t do anything. I convinced myself of that. I was convinced of that for a very long time. Even during mania, I didn’t have dreams for the future as my dreams and hobbies changed so drastically and so often. But eventually I started to think not so much of the future, but of things I might like to do. And I chose writing. I’ve managed to stick to it through mania and depression. Although each episode changes how I write.  Love  des57