Here we go again. Another year and another season of combating this invisible illness call Bipolar Disorder. It's amazing that I have survived this long but then again, I have had plenty of opportunities to end it all. Such as this morning when my daughter left without giving me a hug goodbye. I don't blame her one bit. I'm turning into my mother and I'd hate me too.
So much crap. Expired driver's license. An upcoming move across the country with 7 animals and a 10 year old with some serious problems. And I wonder why I was surprised with her behavior. I warned my husband of my concern about her developing this mental illness. I suggested an abortion but he insisted. And here we are, 10 years later, with a child who, at 7, held a pair of scissors to her older cousin's throat. Began abusing animals at the same time by throwing animals down flights of stairs. And just few weeks ago, decided to break the kitten's leg.... again.
I am married to the military which means for the past 6 years, he hasn't been around. Now I'm alone again while he's away for a class for 9 months (after only being home from overseas again for a couple of months). I am currently tasked with having to move 7 animals and the kid across country, find a place to live, find a pet sitter then fly back with the kid to drive the over 3,000 miles again so we can have our "family time." Because it's just that easy for me, right?
I've held that gun to my head I can't tell you how many times tonight. Tears have been flowing down my face since 4pm yesterday and haven't stopped. The only person I have as far as family I can talk to isn't even blood related but a step-dad who at one point in time, pretended to have gone to work only to turn around with every intention of killing myself and my mother one evening. But I guess that's all water under the bridge.
My mother is still strung out on drugs and is now getting physical with my sister 12 years younger than me. I cut her out of my life years ago yet she still finds ways to contact me. My birth father is in prison where he belongs and my husband's family, well, I burned that bridge already so there's just no point in going there.
I was told many times in my life that I needed to write a book. I had been asked while in high school to get up in front of about 500 people to give my testimony for some guy who was speaking at a nearby Christian college. I was doubted by my best friends growing up that my home life was really that bad. I was in only foster homes that were eventually shut down, in other words, the bad ones. I found a letter to my mother suggesting my birth father was molesting me up until I was 18 months old. My Grandfather paid my birth father $10,000 to leave the state when I came back with him at that aforementioned age. When I was 12, he showed up again trying to find me but my full name had already been changed illegally. Instead my Grandfather cashed in his life insurance policy and paid off the courts to falsify his DNA and keep him imprisoned for 75 years for an alleged kidnapping and rape charge that my own probation officer told me was not true. (The girl was on probation with the same PO I had and she had to testify.) Montel Williams' producer once called me to ask if I'd be willing to go on the show, I laughed and hung up. I have been in a number of abusive relationships with both men and women. The last being a woman who just last year shoved me down the steps then tried to convince me I "tripped." I have gone to my parents due to inappropriate contact brought on by one of their friends only to be ignored and called a liar. The only time I ever saw my birth father was on A Current Affair.
I have been knocked down but I have always gotten back up. I have always tried to push myself no matter how many tell me I'll never make it or just turn their backs on me.
Today, and for the past month, I have been living my usual hell although it always seems worse each time it rolls around. If my kid were to go back in the hospital for trying to kill herself again, I think I'd welcome the down time at this point. Her lying and stealing and causing harm to the house and the pets is just too much. She's at the point where she can't even play with the neighbor kids due to her violent behavior towards them. I'm sure she picked it up from my ex of 2.5 years but I know, deep down, it's also in her genetics.
I know full well what I am capable of doing to others yet I hold back. I'm not violent towards others anymore but instead I turn inward. I don't let others see how miserable I am and I'm getting in the habit of wearing sunglasses quite often to hide my puffy eyes or the dark circles under them. I had just realized that I have gone two and a half days without eating and I'm not even hungry. I've been living on coffee and cigarettes along with 4 hours of sleep then staying up for 30+ hours over and over. I have visions in my head of me doing things that are so vivid that I have to grab a hold of my bed just to remind myself that I'm not really doing what I think I'm doing in my head. Meaning, I have fits of rage, towards myself, and I envision myself walking into the kitchen, grabbing a steak knife out of the block and stabbing it right into my neck. It's such a vivid vision that I grab a hold of my bed to make myself realize that I'm still in bed, not doing what I think I'm doing but unable to stop myself from following through on.
But let me tell you now, I'm not here for attention or sympathy from anyone. I'm just here to get these thoughts out of my head. I do not feel sorry for myself nor am I one of those woe is me types. I do have my moments when it seems that way but outwardly, I'm strong with a very thick shell. I smile a lot even with that rage or that feeling of helplessness inside of me because everyone has a story and everyone reacts differently to their situations.
I do see myself as a strong person just because I do suffer from this bipolar disorder. My body will not allow me the opportunity to take medications and trust me, I've had a lot to know better. I fight this battle, tread this water, on my own. I do not see a therapist nor do I want to. I know, after years of seeing them, what I need to do to combat my darkest desires.
So with all of that out there, enjoy or despise my blogs, I really don't care. This is my form of therapy when I have the willpower to follow through on it.
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