Occasionally 'the Universe' provides a gift and reminds us to live in the moment. On a particularly horrible day I experienced a tap on the shoulder that literally brought me front and center into the present.

My 19-year old daughter was in a psychiatric unit of a Trauma-1 hospital in Seattle, newly diagnosed with bipolar disorder, preparing for a series of ECT treatments. It was Mother's Day. She had just sang and played "Blackbird" for me as my gift when she suddenly crashed again, back down into her depression, and told us to leave. I was about as low as I had been over the previous 6 months of hell. My husband talked me into taking a walk through an old growth forest arboretum.

It was an absolutely beautiful day and suddenly I had this feeling of smallness in an ancient world. I was simply in the moment of that beautiful place, a tiny speck on our earth's curve. I relaxed. I let out and took in a breath of air. I was, in that moment, at peace. Of course it didn’t last, but I remember it well and I hold it gently and tenderly inside of me, hoping to tap into this feeling again if needed.

Indeed, it would be needed through other hospitalizations, an overdose, medication change upon change, and self-medicating that included not only drugs and alcohol, but cutting and eating disorders. But we all came out on the other side of these horrors.

Bipolar disorder has not left our lives and certainly stalks my daughter every day and night but it has become manageable. It is understood (mostly) and accepted (somewhat) into the ebbs and flows of all of our lives. How do I take care of myself now? From that moment in the forest I discovered some things that, for me, are nurturing. Without presuming to give advice, here is what I try to do for myself today:

1. Walk outside every day. At least 30 minutes if not more. Sometimes I don't want to. More often I have too much to do but every time I force myself on those days I don't want to it changes everything for me. I am reminded of the moment in the forest.

2. Practice yoga. This is impossible when you have a child in the hospital but once there is any space in the illness this practice really, really helps me. It does so by keeping me in the present and pulling my mind back from the dark imagination and worry of the future. You can find free yoga classes on your television, online and on applications to download.

3. See a therapist. My therapist is someone I can complain to, let the anger out (it's NOT fair!!), and simply have time for just me. The latte and croissant in the bakery next door doesn't hurt either!

4. Write. The book that Linea and I have written (to be published by St. Martin's Press, early 2012) has been a hugely healing process. It has allowed me to slowly peel away all the layers and heal. It exposed the post-traumatic stress that was stalking me. Try journaling. Let it all out through your fingers and your keyboard or pen. It led us to perhaps the most important aspect of healing which is….

5. Be honest. There has been incredible pain, tears, fear and anger but we have talked about all of it. This took time. It has been a process. Even when Linea was the sickest we were honest, although it was a fractured honesty and often that honesty was merely resting while the symptoms took her far away from us. But honesty has built the platform that now holds us all steady. We have slowly and surely peeled away the layers and we are stronger and more honest with each other and the world than we would have been before this illness struck our daughter and our family.

 What do you do for peace? What do you do to care for yourself? How has a severe illness impacted your family in any small yet positive way? I'd like to hear from you; please share in the comments section of this blog!

 Take care, Cinda