Just One Look...

All it took was one, just one glance of my eyes off my laptop screen to my daughter's face to tell that despite the smile, that all was 'not well'.  I honestly didn't even have the energy to ask and for those who have never lived with a bipolar child who is now a 'mini-adult' that will sound bad but I seriously didn't even want to know.  I could have predicted almost scripted even the words that poured from her mouth from "Hey..I'm back...so guess who was there.." down into the vortex that my daughter continues to plunge herself into despite the best of medicines, the best of doctors, the best of intentions..despite it all.  Somehow the conversation went from how horrible it was to have gone out with this friend to it being my fault because I've encouraged her to 'get out'..and this is something all parents learn, but particulary parents of bipolar children - it is ALWAYS your fault, particularly if you are the Mom.  You won't just hear it from your child, you will hear it from your spouse, your family, your siblings and an amazing other array of people who have never faced this disorder day in and day out and had it beat the h*ll out of you and your kid.  So now after 1 hour of quiet I have retreated to my room to preserve what little sanity I have left as it ended with my daughter yelling at me, my husband yelling at us both (poor man, we were interrupting his video game he was playing)..and me..alone...again...as always.  I did tell my daughter I loved her and she had de-escalated from her bipolar rage but I know the 'victim tapes' and 'I hate myself tapes' are playing in her head.  She is the only one with the power to stop them.  I can't make her want to get help, I can't make her do anything.  I love her with every fiber of my being even when I am at my limit as I am now.  I'm sure this post doesn't sound this way to you, but I do.  I'd take bipolar from her in a heartbeat.  However I can't. Now I'm back here..on a computer..using a blog as my journal..by myself..alone..with on one to share the burden.

For most it sounds like an adventure, for those who know it is agonizing

The 'rollercoaster' I speak of riding is an analogy about living with someone who has bipolar disorder or in my case, more than one 'somebodies'.  As they often say, to get to where we are we have to start at the beginning so instead of the rant I had planned to post tonight, I realized it would make no sense without the background.  My daughter (now 18 years old) was first diagnosed around age 7 with bipolar which I was just SURE the doctor had to be mistake about.  I had read about bipolar and she didn't meet the extreme and often very frightening symptoms other children displayed.  Using this comforting rationalization I justified for another couple of years that we just had a strong-willed child on our hands.  A very moody and tempermental one, but just strong-willed with a very unhealthy dose of 'brat' and 'entitlement' stirred in for good measure. 

To try and tell you about the pain, suffering and despair endured in the next 10 years would take more pages than anyone could possible read.  I will tell you I wish this disorder on no one.  I'm also very sick so probably this is the end of my post and yep, I know it is just hanging....but I'm exhausted and just the time learning to setup the blog has used what little energy I had left after yet another ride on the bipolar rollercoaster tonight.  I think I was actually ejected from the seat on the ride when we were going around the sharpest curve.   I lay here on the ground looking at the stars, finding it hard to even breathe and wondering if this is the time that Death would gift me by taking me with him and letting the pain stop. 

I squeeze my eyes shut to try to ignore the pain of a freshly ravaged heart and remember if I put stretch out my hand to Death and beg him to take me, I leave behind a daughter who still needs her Mom even if she 'hates' me right now.  I leave behind 2 loving parents who ache for me already..as well as another daughter who while she doesn't need me, she may be impacted by my absence. I slowly retract my outstretched arm and clutch it in a fist against my chest.  My breathing remains labored, lungs are on fire and I wonder will the pain ever end? I think I'll just lay here for a while and pretend that I don't have to return to reality, I can just lay here and ache - raw and unfettered.....