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.
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.