***I believe I left off with the death of my grandmother. She was the one rock that I had in my life, other than my grand father whom I called “Da”, who died in 1978. Nana, as I called my grandmother, was the one that raised me through the hell of my mother’s Bipolar cross addicted Illness, & her eventual death when I was 17 years old. The news of my grandmother’s death hit me so hard. I can still remember a conversation she and I had a couple months prior to her death. I had asked her to please not let me be the one to find her dead, as I had my grandfather and mother. Not that she had control over it, but I was obviously very tormented by the memories. It’s an incredibly hard thing for an adult to find a loved one dead, but for a child to find not one, but two close family members dead is a hell all in its self. I was so thankful to have had that discussion with my grandmother, because I was able to tell her how much I loved her, and appreciated her, as well as say good bye in a way with out the words, so I had some closeure which I never got with my mother and grandfather. I knew I was going to lose her soon. Don’t ask me how I knew, it was just a very strong, and tormenting feeling that I had deep inside every time I left her home after visits, for about four months. I cried each time I left her, fearing that I would never see her alive again, than one morning the phone rang. My than husband came into the bedroom in a panic and said my grandmother had just called and asked for me. He said she sounded odd, and than she was quiet. I ran to the phone and she was not there. I hung up and called the fire department and instructed them to break the door down if needed. ( Unfortunately when my mother died, the emergency teams could not enter the home with out permission and so she died. ) My car was having issues that day and could not drive faster than thirty miles an hour, it was maddening. When I finally arrived, the medics had her on the sofa weaving back and forth between them. I started talking to her. Begging her not to leave me alone, telling her how much I missed her. I told her how sorry I was if I caused her any sadness when I was a teenager, and than I called her doctor, and my mother’s adopted sister , who by the way was my Godmother. The one that was supposed to look after me if my mother died. What a joke! The rest is history. My grandmother, my rock had just passed away, and I was left alone. My aunt disowned me that day for reasons I never knew.
***Now that I am an adult, I realize I had some issues back when I was a teenager,what teenager wouldn’t after her mother died so tragically. My aunt never offered to help my grandmother with me. Not once did she try to help me through it. I was a good kid, all I needed was some guidance and love. You can’t expect a kid to bounce back unscathed when both parents, and the grandfather that raised you and acted as your father dies when your so young. I fell between the cracks. No one talked to me about it at all. Life just went on, and I went with it. What was I to do? So If my aunt disowned me for that, than I guess she should blame herself for not trying to help me through those deaths, after all I was just a child, she was the adult. She’s the one that left her mother over age seventy to deal with a troubled teenager alone. How shameful. Eventually I started hanging out with the party kids, drinking beer on weekends, and staying out late. No drugs on my end, just a lot of beer. I was not offered a counselor until I was in High School and was having problems with my grades, attendance, and curfews. I eventually straightened out by the time I was eighteen. I was still a mess inside but I was a smart kid and I knew I could not live that way. Maybe that has been my curse, the ability to look & function as if I am just fine, when inside I am a mess.
****So by now I am alone, no family to speak of. My one brother is mentally disabled, and his wicked step mother refuses us communication, and my other brother turned against me because of an inheritance and so I had only my than husband and our four month old daughter. My marriage at that time was already falling apart. We were friends that never should have been together romantically, but one night of drinking with friends changed all that and we had a daughter on the way. I hate to say it that way, because children should never be thought of as a mistake and I do not look at either of my kids that way, just the marriages or person I conceived them with. Thats probably when my illness started festering due to the traumas I had already suffered, and feeling so alone at such a young age. I had no clue at that time age twenty that I was in for such a shit storm. I was smart enough to know that life was going to be hard as I had no adult family alive for moral support. I had to wing it in life with myself, my children, and my marriage. It did not help that my first child was willful, and very temperamental. I had no clue what to do to help her, or me so I sought out counseling. Thankfully my husband, her father, was a decent guy even if we were not well suited for each other. We did mutually agree to end our marriage, and have remained cordial to each other since. I am very glad for that as I do not believe in animosity and parents fighting all the time.
***What I would give to have back the years when my illness was not out in the open, not controlling my life or trying to anyway. When I knew where the illness ends and I begin. Probably hard for those that do not have a mental illness to understand what that sentence means. Thats where the illness tries to define you. You lose yourself in your mental illness. The days of you doing something just because thats who you are as a person are over, and now suddenly everything you say or do is because you are Bipolar. Like a woman being defined by PMS. If a woman gets upset or angry suddenly it’s because she has PMS, not because she is a person with feelings that may have been upset over something. So in the end most women are defined by their biological body functions of PMS…at least by men. Thats how it is for a person with a mental disorder. People learn that you are Bipolar or some other mental disorder and suddenly things make since to them. That angry outburst you had in the office awhile back, and moments like these are chalked up to your illness, which it may have been, however not everyone is having a Bipolar Episode 24 hours a day. I assure you I was a talkative person that loved to shop long before my illness reared it’s ugly head, but now people say I am talkative & a shopper because those are my symptoms. They even have me doing it to myself now. Second guessing my reason for being in the store and wanting to buy something. Granted I will spend myself into the poor house when I am manic, even I admit that, but this damn illness has put a label on me. A label that had me second guessing my reasons for shopping and everything I did. I cut myself off from all our family money for ten years just to ensure I would not spend our bill money. Other than child support which I spent on the kids and just a little on me, I had no money at my disposal. My current husband who is a wonderful man, got so into that role I pushed him into, that he forgot to give me money, and except for the rare occasions he never gave me money. When the child support ended I had no access to cash. Two years went by and I did not shop unless I was with my hubby. It ended up biting me in the end. It drove me mad in a sense and I eventually broke down and my husband and I had a talk. Every woman should be able to have money and shop or just know she has it if she needs it. That made me cycle into depression. Thankfully my hubby fixed that and I am now able to access money if needed. Getting a bit off track here, sorry. Being defined by this illness is wrong in so many ways in my opinion. Sure we do have issues obviously with our illness that can and should not be ignored, however being defined 24/7 as the illness to me is unfair & unhealthy. We have to know where this illness stops and where we begin. We can not just be this illness. If we are than we will be living a very hard existence. Thats where I made my mistake and it cost me over twenty years of my life hiding in seclusion. Fearful that others would pick up on the fact that I am different mentally. Feeling inferior to those that are working regular jobs while I stayed home with the kids, as well as to protect myself from mental harm. Our being Bipolar should not define who we are and how we live. I do not mean that we should not get help with our illness or that we should not take meds to control it. Quite the opposite in fact, I take my meds everyday. I have a psychiatrist that I see regularly. I encourage anyone with Bipolar disorder to seek assistance and find a good support system. We all need positive oust side support to beat the BEAST at his own game. If you have not taken a minute to look over the link I posted listing many famous Bipolar people please do. It’s really quite amazing to see how many highly respected people have the same illness I do, and even you if your Bipolar. It’s very helpful to know that they made something of their lives regardless of this illness. It gives me hope, courage, and the strength to try and break free of this life I have allowed this illness to create for me.Until next posting…Have a great holiday™ © ®Freedom