Looking back, if someone had told me during my teenage years that I would be diagnosed with “Bipolar Disorder” later in life, I would have dismissed it as absurd. In those years, I was under the impression that everyone around me was irrational, while I had convinced myself that I had all the answers.
That is the beginning of my adventures.
We all know those years because our parents cursed us with one thing in life- to have children who exhibit behaviors similar to yours when you were their age and acting out. I was like that with my mom. She cursed me before she knew and understood about the “mental illnesses” that run through both sides of my family. “Schizophrenia,” “ADHD,” and “Bipolar Disorder,” to name a few. We are nearly a family of illnesses that a book documents. It seems to be that way.
Between 17 and 19, I was put in a hospital to get tested. They wanted to know why I was acting out, self-destructive behavior, spending my money on garbage, and doing things I shouldn’t have. The doctors put me on Stelazine.
I’ve had so many diagnoses that I’m not sure they know what’s wrong with me, even after all these years. I show something in every diagnosis: “Schizoaffective Disorder,” “Schizoid Personality Disorder,” “Bipolar Disorder Type 1,” and now “Bipolar Disorder Type 1 with Psychosis.” By the way that all sounds, I’m a walking time bomb waiting to happen. That’s what the doctors say. Now add asthma, insomnia, high cholesterol, and arthritis to all that, and you have me. Death by Walking and Breathing!
From 19, my years were not easy; they were pure hell. For my mom, the worrier and warrior, I was not easy on her at all. We didn’t know, and we didn’t understand until our later years. I did everything I could to destroy my life. My mom and my cousin were there for me when nobody else was. The rest of the family didn’t want to believe I had a “mental illness.”
From 21 or 22, when I found a man that I thought I loved, got pregnant, married, and wanted a divorce. But I’m being too nice to him right now. Do I love him, you ask? It is an easy No. I can’t stand him. I’m only civil to him because we have a daughter together. He was not the perfect husband or father. I’m not sure if he even bettered himself. He is sitting in jail right now, and only God knows why because it was not by me.
Jump to the time I had my daughter, around 23. I was off the Stelazine for about a year then. That’s when all the destructive behavior started up again. This year was the year I swore to myself that I would change my ways for the better for my daughter. But it didn’t happen that way.
Nine months of pregnancy without medications was a bit of a nuisance. I did work until I moved out of Texas, but trying to keep that job was my biggest headache. I was glad to move., away from him, away from bad blood. I had to deal with abuse from him and wanted nothing to do with him until five and a half months after my daughter was born. I married the man I thought I loved for the sake of our daughter. I knew he was abusive, but I didn’t think.
If I knew in my early years what I know now, my life would have been different. But I didn’t know. My daughter thinks she knows everything, and she’s not medicated anymore. She took herself off her medication. Now, she’s defaulting to behavior from the past ten years. It is not healthy, but you can’t tell her anything. Twenty-four years ago, I finally grew up and paid attention to my health and mental stability. Do you think it’s easy to acknowledge that you are unstable? It’s not. My daughter is having the same issue. She’s not thinking with her head.
I was in my thirties before I grew up, but now it’s too late for my daughter. She destroyed her life by giving her rights to someone else, not the family. I was smart when she was young. I gave my rights to my mom, who even let me be a mother when I was mentally stable enough. I may not have been there in person much, but I was just a phone call away.
Why did she, you ask? My daughter has a thinking problem that stems from a mental illness. She cannot think straight without taking the time to think about the consequences.
How do I handle the fact that I’ll never see my grandchildren grow up and be men? I’ll never see them marry, have children of their own, be in their life. It hurts, but I can’t change it. My daughter did the damage. And, I have no rights now to them.
This post is just a little background on what is to come. I started my journey from what I can remember from the age of 17 to 30 and beyond. I am now 53. I have also come a long way.
Join my journey as you encounter what one person diagnosed with “Bipolar Disorder Type 1 with Psychosis” has gone through and is going through. I am documenting my life, from relationships to work, family to friends, and everyday life training personal psychiatric service dogs, Ace and Spade. Their tale is something else, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.
All I can say is, “Welcome to my World.” May you have a thrilling ride, and may you discover and understand more about what bipolar disorder does to the brain of the one creating the content. We have one heck of a journey ahead of us. May you stay along for the ride. Happy reading!
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