Do you ever have days where you just don’t feel like you’re doing enough as a parent? That some how you are failing your kids?
I know I have those days. In an attempt to not run and hide from everything when my life gets rocky I’m here to admit that I am having that kind of day.
I haven’t been totally honest with myself. I came off my meds for my Bipolar Disorder, I stopped taking my anxiety meds and my ADHD meds. I didn’t want a life on pills to be “normal.” But what is normal? Is it this feeling of failing my children at every turn for my want of not taking a couple of pills each day? Is normal not wanting to engage in life and slowly start slipping into a black hole? Why is it that I can make the decision to stop taking meds that will allow me to function, yet I can make the decision to medicate my 4 year old daughter so that she has a fighting chance in life? That is a contradiction if I have ever seen one.
I am making bad choices for myself at the expense of those that depend on me.
Yup, I feel like I’m failing my kids and myself today, actually this whole week. This post isn’t about attention seeking, rather admitting that I am human and that I can feel defeated.
Tomorrow is a new day. I will wake up and work towards being better version of myself that knows that sometimes there will be set backs and all I can do is try to make the day better than the one before it.Honestly that’s the best any of us can do.
See that is the scary part of dealing with complex needs in one house. My children depend on me, yet I am allowing my bipolar disorder and lack of wanting medications to determine how “good” of a parent I can be. Tomorrow I will take my meds, tomorrow I will call my doctor and be seen to get refills so that I can be a “good” mom, wife, and person again. Not for the sake of being “Normal” but for the sake of feeling like I can do it again. For the sake of being able to help my children who need me more than they can even begin to express.
Life happens, we make decisions both good and bad. The only thing we can do is learn from our decisions and work to make life better than it was the day before. It is up to me to change this path I am heading down. It is up to me to be there for my family and myself even when I don’t feel the best.
Imagine a world where nothing matters, you could do anything. You thought you were invincible. Money could be spent without a thought to how the bills would be paid. Imagine a world where you were the best at everything and you needed very little sleep to get things done. This world sounds kind of nice doesn’t it?
Well this is mania – it’s my mania to be exact. It also comes with some very dangerous side effects. That money that you spent, you needed it to pay your rent or buy formula for the baby. The things I think I can do because I’m unstoppable, well they have consequences as well. Those things almost destroyed my marriage more than once. This phase can last for a few hours to a month or more at a time for me. Then comes the next phase … I crash.
I fall into a bottomless pit of depression. It’s dark, it’s scary and most of all it is real. I’m not talking about sit around and cry type of depression. Oh that would be a piece of cake compared to what I experience. When I hit this depression personal care doesn’t matter. If someone didn’t tell me to take a shower or brush my teeth I probably wouldn’t. During this depression I am not a good mom, I do the bare minimum to make sure my children are taken care of. Not because I don’t want to take care of them, but because I can’t.
The dark world of this depression hurts physically, mentally and emotionally. I’m not good enough for anyone. I can list all of my faults to an exact measurement, even if no one else can see them. It’s during these depressions that I truly believe that the world would be a better place without me. I know how much of a burden I am on my family, and honestly when I am depressed because of my bipolar lows I know in my heart of hearts that my family would be better off without having to constantly worry about me.
As scary as those low points sound, they really aren’t the worst of it. It’s when you cycle back up into mania that it becomes dangerous. All of those negative thoughts you have during depression you now have the motivation to do.
My bipolar disorder has had a major impact on my life. It has impacted my family and those around me. It has led my husband to watch me attempt suicide and have to call 911 to have me hospitalized. My bipolar disorder has led to my mother to question what she did wrong. She has had to sit in a doctor’s office and be told that without medications I would continue this destructive path.
With medications, which need to be adjusted every so often, I can be somewhat stable. Even that isn’t perfect. I still slip into nasty depressions and scary manias. This is my bipolar disorder; this is part of our life for better or worse.
Today is world suicide prevention day. This fact was brought to my attention by another Facebook page. The owner of this page, Spinning Cars and Flying Horses Autism Bipolar Adventure, bared her soul for all of Facebook to see. She asked if anyone had a story to share to message the page if you wanted to share your story anonymously.
A taboo subject. No one wants to talk about it, even less want to admit that their life has been changed because of it. Yet it is a problem we must face in our world. Each year we hear more and more accounts of suicide. Many times it is teens we hear about due to bullying. Or murder/suicides. What we don’t hear are personal accounts of those nameless/faceless individuals that have attempted suicide. We don’t hear what brought them to this point, or how they managed to come back from a failed attempt.
Here is my story, not something I have shared many times before. I am putting it out there for the world to see, for the world to understand that Suicide is something that needs to be talked about in order to prevent more lives from ending when help can be given.
All through out my life I felt different, I didn’t fit in. I did not feel this world was the one I was meant to be in. Even my poetry expressed those thoughts and feelings from the time I was 12. At the age of fourteen I raped. I felt ashamed, dirty and some how responsible for this. I didn’t pick this, but like many rape victims I felt it was my fault that I cause it. I did not speak a word of it to anyone. The few friends I had were lost and things got worse. Fast forward three years, I was 17. I was isolating from the world. I was mean and angry. Then I was happy as could be and nothing could stop me. Those “ups’ were the most dangerous times in my life. My cutting became worse and the jackets and long sleeves were a daily occurrence for me. I had a teacher who saw the signs and refereed me out to the school psychologist, I was labeled … I saw the therapist, I told them what they wanted to hear and then I was caught. On our last session provided by the county I was asked to take of my jacket. I was sent to a psychiatrist where I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, PTSD, Severe social anxiety, phsycosis, ADHD, and many more things. I couldn’t take it anymore. In April of 2001 I tried to end my life. I took as many pills as I could find in my house and then went to sleep. My sister blamed herself, she had no clue that the pills I had were intended to end my life, she wasn’t to blame. Sadly this would not be my last attempt. I had several more failed attempts … more a cry for help. My final attempt to take my life was nearly successful. In 2003 I lost my mother-in-law to multiple organ failure and my uncle lost his battle to AIDS, my family thought the best way to handle my psychosis was through a religious ceremony (in other words a form of an exorcism). I was done. I was sick of being a burden on everyone’s life. I quickly and quietly took 50 pills of depakote ER at 500 mg each. I did not say a word to anyone. My hubby noticed something was wrong and that I was in a room behind a closed door. He quickly called 911, I was transported to the ER, had my stomach pumped and spent 4 days in the ICU until my blood levels came out of the dangerously toxic levels. I was put on a 72 hour hold once I left the ICU. That day something changed, I checked myself into an intensive residential program and f or the next 30 days I worked the program, I wanted the change. Since that day I have not attempted to take my life. I still battle with this daily. I still cut, sometimes worse than others. I have scars I can not explain and a mind that does not work they way it should. Each day is a battle, but it is one I fight because my family means more to me than anything else. I could not imagine leaving my three beautiful children to have to understand why their mommy left them.
Mirror, Mirror on the wall does this blog really tell it all? Can any blog really tell it all?
It’s my opinion that I try to keep it real and tell it all, but there are things I don’t say. I am not the perfect person or the perfect mom. This blog gives a small insight into my world with autism, adhd, bipolar disorder, and an undiagnosed daughter going though her clinical evaluations.
Here is what this blog doesn’t say:
It doesn’t tell you how most days I want to run away and hide.
It doesn’t tell you that I get pissed off when people tell me nothing is wrong with my kid because he looks normal.
It doesn’t tell you that I dread the first day of school because all though my son is verbal he can’t always tell me what is going on in his mind.
This happened at his last preschool, four months later he finally told me they were taking his fidget toy away from him and they were not telling me either.
This blog doesn’t tell you that I lose it with my kids, but immediately feel shame for it.
This blog doesn’t tell you that there are days I hate the struggles this life has brought me. Those days of hate and anger are eased when I see one of my three children doing some thing that someone with a medical degree told me they wouldn’t do.
Does this blog tell it all? No! But it gives you a view of what our life is like.