Bipolar Moments 

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.

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