It’s been 10 years since my picture appeared in this newspaper.

The last time was in 2008, when I wrote a biweekly column for the Sunday Focus section. There may be a few Eagle readers who still recall my column, in which I shared aspects of my everyday life: raising children at a time that didn’t align neatly with my 1950s childhood, the idiosyncratic behaviors of my car-centric husband, and the poignancy of watching aging parents slip slowly from life.

You also may recall that I wrote frequently of my husband’s Ramblers, the cheap, stripped-down cars from the 1950s and ’60s he collected.

Steve, my husband, loved Ramblers, and his continuing effort to integrate these boxy sedans into our family life provided fodder for my writing.

In one column I complained good-naturedly of all the Rambler memorabilia in our home: from T-shirts to coffee mugs; from the hubcap-shaped Rambler clock in our living room to the score of hubcaps nailed to the perimeter of our garage doors.

Although I wrote lightheartedly of Steve’s Rambler obsession, there were aspects of it that I didn’t share.

May is Mental Health Awareness Month, an appropriate time for me to explain more about those Ramblers.

Shortly before I started writing for the Eagle, in 1995, my husband was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Several years later, when he failed to improve despite taking the medication his psychiatrist prescribed, the diagnosis was changed to schizoaffective disorder, a more complicated form of the illness.

What I didn’t address in my columns was that Steve’s excessive behaviors were symptomatic of his illness.

Throughout my time as a columnist, Steve and I struggled with his disorder. It fell to me — with help from others — to hold together a family with three young children through the ups and downs of their father’s episodes. It wasn’t easy, and I often disguised my frustration glibly through my column.

Steve also worked hard dealing with his diagnosis. He attended National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) support group meetings, took his medications, and regularly visited a therapist, who helped him understand the multitude of changes that can occur with mental disorders.

Together we attended NAMI workshops and conferences, all with the goal of better understanding and coping with his diagnosis.

Mental illnesses are complex to understand and difficult to diagnose because there are no clear biological markers, which would make them easier to accept as real.

And because the symptoms are unpredictable and affect personality, it’s awkward to talk openly about them. It never feels OK to speak of a loved one’s odd, erratic or even disturbing behaviors. It’s also why the stigma of mental illness runs deep.

I’m sharing this now to encourage others to think about their own mental health.

Throughout the year and especially during May, leading mental health organizations like Mental Health America and NAMI work to raise awareness about our mental well-being, which is essential to our overall health.

We all know what we should do to remain healthy: live more-balanced lives, eat well, develop good sleep habits, manage stress, etc.

Doing this isn’t easy, I know. Our family lived on the edge for many years, but Steve’s illness forced us take stock of how we lived.

We began in small ways: Turning off the TV in our bedroom. Walking. Sharing our angst with others. Keeping personal journals. Lowering expectations of ourselves and of others. Breathing deeply. Learning how to graciously accept help from others.

According to NAMI, approximately 1 in 5 adults in the United States is affected by a mental health condition each year; maintaining a healthier lifestyle is important in preventing the onset or worsening of mental health problems.

In May, Mental Health America, who started Mental Health Month in 1949, encourages people with mental health concerns to participate in screenings, which are free and easily accessible on its website, www.mentalhealthamerica.net.

It’s important to remember that mental illnesses are like physical illnesses; it’s far easier to treat them in the early stages of the disease, before symptoms become acute.

I also want to share that Steve and I are doing well, although I still complain about his over-the-top enthusiasm for all things mechanical.

The Ramblers along with the row of hubcaps around our garage doors are gone, but he’s shifted to collecting antique boat motors and Wheel Horse garden tractors. I can’t say I’m thrilled about them either, but at least they don’t take up as much room in our driveway.

Linda K. Schmitmeyer is a former Butler Eagle Focus editor. She is the author of “Rambler: A family pushes through the fog of mental illness,” which is being released by The Artists’ Orchard publishers in September. You can learn more about her family’s experience at www.lindaschmitmeyer.com; you can contact her at linda@lindaschmitmeyer.com.