When the World Falls Down

i-hate-being-bipolar-it_s-totally-awesome

Sometimes it’s hard to be me.

I don’t really have a lot to complain about.  I have my wonderful husband, I have four beautiful children who I love and a Mom who drives me insane.  I honestly wouldn’t have it any other way.

Then there is the rest of it.

I am bipolar.  The part that worries some people and sometimes makes life harder is that I am also unmedicated.

My doctors and I chose to remove me from medication eleven years ago when I forgot a single dose and had a downswing so hard I nearly killed myself.  Instead, I went to therapy for three years learning new tools to cope with the world.

For the most part, if you consider my history of physical and psychological abuse, I am a fairly well-balanced person.  I am probably overcompensating, but I am ok with that.

I have had numerous issues with an Ex who was also physically and psychologically abusive. His world is unraveling and it an odd twist of fate, It’s helping tie my world back together with bits of hope and joy.

My older two children were kept away from me for whatever reasons that the dreaded Ex had decided were fit.  He blatantly ignored court orders, and life in general sucked.

Then it happened.

The Ex did something so Heinous and Depraved that I can only hope he rots in prison and has to live every day knowing that his children will never want him to be in their world again.  I will, on the other hand, get to be there as they grow into adults and I get to be a tool that can lead them to the right therapeutic steps to rebuild their lives.

I hold on to SO much anger that sometimes I feel like I could literally shatter, and that is when life decides that I need to deal with a liiiiiitle bit more.

Some of my children are Socially Anxious and one is most likely Bipolar as well.  Early Onset Bipolar Disorder, they think, and Mood Disorder.

I do what I can to love and support the kids properly, but I find myself hating myself a little bit because of a disorder that is genetically defiling my children.

Bipolar disorder can be nerve-wracking, annoying and sometimes downright scary. I personally used to have VERY vivid thoughts of doing physical harm to others.  My therapist said it was because I was abused.  No one ever told me that bipolar disorder could, and did do that.

Now I write.  I feel violent, I kill a character, or they live through some sort of catastrophic hell that I create for them.

I feel like I am in the wrong skin some days.  I am this sad, angry person that is trapped in the body of a semi well-adjusted mom.

I take the kids to school and appointments. I am complimented on my organization (I have to be because I forget everything when I am overwhelmed).  I take them to clubs and school events. My kids even come to me and are honest about their feelings.  If they think about sex, drugs, drinking, etc, I am one of the few lucky parents that actually KNOWS about that part of their lives.

I feel honored on one hand, but on the other I also know it is because I HAD to train them from an early age to be 1000% open about every minute of their lives.  There are no secrets in my home.  There can’t be.

Secrets can break the foundation of everything we build to support our disorders.

My teenagers can, and will look me in the eye and say “You are being a bitch” or “I want to slap everyone in this room right now”. They do this at home, and usually in private, but if it happens in public, the direct approach we take, we startle people.  People will sometimes even butt in and try to parent or comment.

I politely shut them down with a calm explanation, but some days that is just too damn exhausting to keep up on.

Here I go again, rambling.  I write what is literally bouncing about in my brain on this blog.  Sometimes I am well thought out, and other times I am disjointed.

How do I bring myself up when I am feeling so very low right now?  Seriously, if anyone has any ideas, I am all ears.  You can never have too much advice, and the wrong advice for you might not be wrong for someone else.

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