Parenting

I Am a Bipolar Parent – Pissy

/ Robin

Hi everyone.

I chose the title “I am a Bipolar Parent – Pissy” because while BP is what I am, who I am, what I have, whatever, I am a parent first.

I am a divorced and still single BP woman. I am Type 1 (the messy type) and I exist in the mixed state perpetually. When not being a good and balanced mom, I’m super pissy. When I’m depressed and throwing things or want to get off the world and I’m manic and talk forever and shout a lot.

I’ve raised my children (I’ve counted them… there are three) alone and unemployed. I’ve stay unemployed because I simply couldn’t handle working. I’ve never lasted more than a year in any job. I did have my own company for a while. It was wonderful and I loved it. I was more manic than depressed at that time so I was able to crush all adversity into dust.

People around me kept telling mi I was a great parent. Now, years later, I look back and am broken hearted. I see that I wasn’t an amazing parent. I see what damage I’ve done to my babies who are now 22, 19 and 17. My youngest especially has explained to me through who she believes she is and remembers from her childhood, that I pulled them into my emotional and mental poverty with her especially being damaged.

Damaged. I suppose I wasn’t such a great parent. I was relatively stable (I’m lying) during the first two kids’ early years. When it came to my youngest I see that I was consumed by my business. It made me feel alive for the first time in years. Unfortunately, I left her in the dust of my being consumed. She’s had a hard time.

My baby says she’s been raised in a shit hole and feels like others have “families” while she did not. Their father has been out of the picture for most of her life. That, has been his choice. It gave her a primary target for her anger, her hatred.

Now I am learning so many things about her and what she remembers. She doesn’t remember any good times.

I remember the good times. So do the older too. She feels . . . cheated I think.

I’ll tell you more about this soon. Instead of lamenting all my woes of being a crappy mom, I’m going to tell you how I became a good mom. Maybe even a great mom. I became a “weird parent”. Check back soon to see what I mean.

I Am . . . Afraid

/ Robin

I’m still depressed. My Lamictal dosage is rising steadily and is currently at 350 mg daily. Maybe it’s starting to work because I already was taking 200 mg daily. Maybe I realized how afraid I really am. Oh sure, I go to see my med provider every two weeks again (back up from once monthly) and my counselor weekly, but somehow I “feel” worse off. It’s almost as if having my mental/emotional needs addressed again with such intensity tripped me up really hard. I’m at a place in life where I am so afraid… it’s the kind of fear that sucks your brain out and leaves you stunned and unable to think straight. The depression, anxiety and anger seem like they are swarming about me. They suck at my soul. They lap at the fallen corner stone of my very being…

I’ve lost my purpose and I’m so afraid.

I was trying to think of an image that would demonstrate how I feel. It’s pretty hard to Google “afraid, depressed, anxious, without purpose” and expect anything helpful to pop up. I thought of Leonardo de Vinci  and some of they dramatic faces he drew. I looked at a few and this one seems to come kind of near to what I want you to see… my fear. The man is shouting. The setting is the Battle of Anghiari.

 

da_vinci_shouting_man

da Vinci’s “Shouting Man”

Let me try to explain to you my friend, what I mean. During some of my very dark periods I was able to hold on to one thing, one certainty, that kept me going and gave me purpose… a reason to live. That purpose was to be the best mom that I could be and raise my kids to be the best people they could be. Growth them strong.

Now, they are old enough to not need me to keep my hand locked firmly on the tiller of their lives. They steer themselves. They are moving on and I am lost. From the time my eldest was born in 1992 my passion, my calling, my purpose, was to be “Mom”. I’ve thought that I have had other purposes along the trail of my life, but somehow being “Mom” over shadowed them all and now I am fighting myself just to remember what I believed I needed and wanted passionately to do… to be.

I am afraid that I’m a failure. No one needs me any longer. I keep to myself mostly. My family and I are not particularly close. I don’t work or volunteer. Putting it short: I don’t feel that I have anything to contribute to the world.

My fear has driven me off my path. I allowed bushes and hedges to crowd my chosen path and completely obscure it from my vision. I know, well, I think I knew what my “vocation”, that is what my passion was. I feel empty and bruised. I don’t want life to touch me. I seem to think it will injure me by exposing my worthlessness to me.

I’m trying to pull together my wits and engage in the monumental fight with myself to reclaim who I am and what I’m about, my purpose.

And, my pain meds for chronic back pain (degenerating disks all up/down my spine have kicked my butt and I just nodded off. Tomorrow I’ll attempt to pull myself together enough to begin discussing with myself how to deal with myself this time. I’ve already worked it out in advanced, but this lack of purpose, this is new and frighting.

I’m letting the drug induced sleep take me away from the fear for a time. Starting physical therapy this last week had kicked up my pain, as I knew it would. It makes the whole of me even more difficult to deal with. At this particular moment I feel like in the morning I can begin to pull my will back together. That is, unless I conveniently forget what I intend on doing with myself, again.

Time to sleep.

Moving Forward – Goals

/ Robin

I’ve been writing/working on a particular project for several years. I’m talking of my CURRENT project.  The main and most important one. (Okay. That’s completely untrue.  My kids are my most important project.)

I’m telling you my objective now, here, in “public” so I’ll have witnesses… so to speak. I hope that knowing someone else is aware of what I’m working toward I’ll keep my promise to myself and finish what I’ve began.

The project – Weird Parenting: How to be a Bipolar Parent and Not Have Your Kids Hate You

That’s the working title. . .for now.
My goal is to complete the entire rough draft by the end of my youngest daughter’s driver’s training course is over.

Honestly, I admit it will be hard to get it done. But look, I’ve been sitting on it for too long time. And I have an unpredictable superpower.  It’s that not so secret dirty little monster commonly referred to as MANIA.

Question to ponder: Can I be stay on my meds and yet let myself be manic to the point where it aids me in the completion of my work? Is that even possible? 

I think it is. What do you think?

Giant Swordfish in My Face

/ Robin

I don’t know if you’re ever looked up and seen a giant swordfish in your face, but I have. Just now in fact.  Right there. Staring at me. You know how I mean, that dead fish sort of stare, looking… well no where actually.

I’m sitting in the colon doctor’s office waiting. With that… fish.

You know there just isn’t anything like a dead swordfish in your face to snap things into place.

It is Monday.  I don’t personally have anything against Monday’s… but perhaps I should. I mean it’s been a Friday the 13th sort of day and its only 11:15 a.m. Geeze.

3:30 a.m. I finally beat my back pain down enough to sleep, for 2 hours. Then I had to pee. I realized my kids were still asleep so I got them up. They were late.

Monday… rough start.

Earlier, after dropping the second kid at the bus I was about to turn at a light and pull out on the highway… I noticed cars stopping very abruptly just after the intersection I was about to enter. Crash! Breaking glass and the sound of metal smushing. Wow.

Called 911.

Two hours later I looked for hidden colon place else. Located. Found swordfish staring at me.

This was my day before noon.

Confused much? Yeah, it happens a lot especially if I don’t slow down and do some fast self editing on the fly.

I’m home now and it’s after dinner. The sun is dropping behind the swamp and trees across the drive and the kids are out and about. Bailey, the Heeler pup we have, us searching deep in the lawn for… um… I have no clue. I do know it requires that one’s nose be shoved as far as possible in through old the mossy grass and snorting very loudly. Honestly I suspect the snorting is what’s the draw here.

I wonder what kind of bird is making that nutty bleeping noise.

My little brother and his partner took his partner’s daughter and her fella to Las Vegas over the weekend and they were married. Not my brother. His partner’s daughter and her man. I get confused sometimes. 

I’ve unwound Bailey from the basketball pole thingie where she tried to truss herself up like a pig. Like what?

I’m home. Still gonna have that “free” colon exploration on Friday. Still waiting for the younger two kids to get home. Waiting for the eldest to fix her phone and answered my bloody texts. It’s been a busy day. My back only really got my goat about 64% of the whole day (I’m being generous).

I’m lucky. Know why?

I’m not that damn swordfish.

Time to go in. Getting a chill out here.

This is my first post from my new phone. Gotta love that.

Swordfish.

image

Hidden colon office.