Most nights, I'm good for only four or five hours of sleep. That leaves the other 20. I have to fill them some way.

Most nights, I'm good for only four or five hours of sleep. That leaves the other 20. I have to fill them some way.

My manic depression was ravaging my life, but because nobody could see it, many people thought it was a figment of my imagination.

The guilt I felt for having a mental illness was horrible. I prayed for a broken bone that would heal in six weeks. But that never happened. I was cursed with an illness that nobody could see and nobody knew much about.

When I'm manic, I'm so awake and alert, that my eyelashes fluttering on the pillow sound like thunder.

I am a rapid-cycling manic-depressive, bi-polar one disorder, which means I can have thirty or forty episodes a year, and I used to have thirty to forty episodes a year.

Weekly $25,000 shopping binges at Barney's and "high end" boutiques for clothes I barely wore were the norm. So were lavish meals with friends where I picked up $1000 tabs. These high-priced activities were within my limits because I was extremely successful financially, a testament to my manic behavior, not to mention my involvement in illegal activities.