Two of my three children have Bipolar Disorder. Do I wish my children were healthy, free from mental illness? Yes, of course. Would I change it if I had the necessary incantation? Tough call. Are their lives, our lives, less glorious because they have Bipolar Disorder? Not one bit. In fact, it may be more glorious because they do. I don’t know. But I do know that, thanks in part to medical advances, we enjoy innumerable good times, deep and abiding love, and a greater respect for diversity and individuality that many of my contemporaries have yet to discover. I know that every difficulty has nurtured strength, or character, or both. We have a keen appreciation of one another and of simply being together.