Archive for March, 2017

Bipolar MomentsĀ 

March 28, 2017

There’s moments, sometimes long moments, in our house that we forget bipolar lives here. Well we do, the boy who battles, he never forgets . It’s always there for him. It’s always raging a war with in his mind. It never won’t. 

 Some moments  he wins. Some moments bipolar wins.

It’s those  moments that the illness wins, that we’re thrust back into a fraction of his reality.  It serves as a reminder that bipolar still lives here, it will never fully pack it’s bags and get its ass out the door.  

It’s those moments, when everything from pop cans to nail clippers are taken away, that we are reminded of the pain our child lives with every second of everyday. Reminded that sometimes that pain is to much. Reminded that the illness at any given time could win the battle in the ultimate way.

It’s moments that my child, is fighting to be alive,that the do gooders, know everythingers make me want to scream.  In the moments that bipolar is rearing it’s ugly head, that I hear such wonderful advice: give him vitamins. Rub his feet with oils. Try this drink. Get him outside. To much screen time. Be positive.Blah. Blah. Blah. 

I know that everyone who says such, in my life anyway, means well but seriously be quiet. Not only have we tried everything but by telling people who battle an invisable brain illness that those things will cure? You are adding to the stereotypes and stigmas these people fight daily. You add to the shame they carry.  You are not helping. 

Bipolar, really any mental illness, is no different from any chronic or life threatening illness.  And as with cancer or diabetes some of those things may help,because they do, but they don’t treat alone. Take your judgment elsewhere, better yet toss it out the door. Oh! And fyi, there is no cure.

There’s moments of peace.  And laughter. Those are my favorite moments.  Or they used to be.  But as I watch and listen to my  wise 15 year old during the crippling and hard moments I am learning.  I am getting a glimpse into a mind and soul so deep and so fragile and strong at the same time. I am finding myself liking those moments too, as hard and horrible as they are. They are favorite moments in a different way. A way that many people would question. But what my child has and does teach me through the ugly and the tears? Those are lessons many people will never learn. 

I am a mom. A mom of a complex and complicated child. A mom who has feared the next bipolar rear. A mom who will never know how long I’ll have my child. A mom who has screamed and cried,oh how I have cried. A mom who has learned and fought and stood up. I am a mom with many many moments that are foreign to much of the mom population . I am a mom who wouldn’t trade any of those moments for anything. 

I am a mom who some moments  will ask if he needs a hug. I am a mom who other times he doesn’t get a choice.

Oh my girl….

March 14, 2017

Where do I even start when I try to describe our punk? 

A girl who has never,will never be a cheerio seems like a good start.

My girl has inspired me from before she was born. Her determination, her humor and her heart and energy can’t be described. They can only be felt and witnessed. I have heard more often than not about the brown eyed girl “there’s just so about her”. And there is. And you just can’t pin point it.

There are some things that I had hoped to not pass on to my daughter. I had hoped her carefree and don’t give a shit attitude would see her through her years. Even though she will never quite change, she refuses strongly to be anyone but her, some of my fears for my girl have become a reality. 

I worried when her mind wouldn’t stop. I worried when the panic attacks started.  I worried when the negative self talk and thoughts started. I worried when the food control flags were raised.  I worried that the kid I’d known for 13 years would dissappear. 

I know better. I am ashamed that I selfishly worried that my spit fire would no longer have her spark. I know better. I don’t ever want her spark to fizzle. And I’m secretly scared it will. But I know better. 

I didn’t worry in the same way I had with dude so many years ago.  I am better equipped to handle these humps now, I have a good handle on the support stuff, I knew who to call, what to do. (Though admittedly I have royally screwed up in some of the things I have said.  That happens. I’m human. ) but I still don’t do well with my kids hurting. That I kinda suck at.
 That spark that has served her well after all, she is who she is. It is the determination of and heart that has brought her to be open with us instead of shutting down and retreating. That will serve her well in the perseverance it takes to get to that other side and hopefully one day carefree attitude back. Her heart will just continue to grow through this part of her journey.  And she will grow and take the world by storm. 

She will laugh her way through because that’s what she does.  If you ask her it’s all my fault for passing on these things, with a twinkle in her eye and a smirk on her lips šŸ˜‰