My tides were fluctuating, too - back and forth, back and forth - sometimes so fast they seemed to be spinning. They call this 'rapid cycling.' It's a marvel that a person can appear to be standing still when the mood tides are sloshing back and forth, sometimes sweeping in both directions at once. They call that a 'mixed state.'

I came back to work when my children were two months old. At that early age, they seem to have little awareness of anybody but their Raggedy Ann dolls, so it wasn't a matter of them missing me. I was missing them.

My guess is that people look at me and project their own values - importance of family, ego is healthy but not the biggest thing. I don't know. I can't explain my popularity.

New Yorkers, by reputation, are fast-talking, assertive and easily annoyed; I fit right in.

I spent an awful lot of my life underestimating myself and, as a result, not exceeding my own expectations.

When I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder the year I turned 50, it was certainly a shock. But as a journalist, knowing a little bit about a lot of things, I didn't suffer the misconception that depression was all in my head or a mark of poor character. I knew it was a disease, and, like all diseases, was treatable.

I would not take for granted that my personal life - because I knew better than anybody - that it was just a life. It was surprisingly an ordinary life.