I was born and raised in the good ol’ state of Missouri. My upbringing was somewhat untraditional as I was mostly raised by my grandparents due to a completely absent father and a mostly absent mother. My childhood was happy but at the same time, I was full of resentment. I was thankful that I had two grandparents that loved me as much as they did, but I was hurt by the parents the left me behind. Regardless, I think I grew up pretty well-rounded.
I was always a high-achiever in school. Ok, let’s be honest, I was a nerd. I loved math and science and these things excited me. The funny thing about it, I hated to write in school. The truth was I just hated to be told what to write about. All throughout high school, I performed well in almost every aspect. I got good grades, I participated in extra-curricular activities and I had a ton of friends. What I didn’t know was there was something brewing inside of me that would have a long-lasting effect on me and I wouldn’t find out about it for many, many years.
I’d say it was about Junior year of high school I got hit with the promiscuity bug and impulsive and reckless behavior would soon follow. I dropped out of high school, started working, broke up with my long-time abusive boyfriend and started to see every man as some quest I had to conquer. That would continue for many years whether I was in a serious relationship or not. I just thought it was who I was. An impulsive, sexual person that couldn’t be tied down to the average commitment. Eventually, I got married and had children and the same old routine continued only I had a willing participant this time. We opened our marriage and it was disastrous.
About four years into our marriage I had what I now know as a complete psychotic break. I was picking up everything, taking my daughters, my dogs and everything I owned and just leaving without even slightest clue as to why. It dawned on me that I was making a mistake as I was driving down the road and I immediately called my husband for help. We spent days trying to get me to a psychiatrist to finally get me to an assessment center where they told me that I had bipolar disorder and needed outpatient treatment. In that moment, my whole life made sense.
I always knew I was a little different than everyone else. I knew that suicidal thoughts were a normal thing for me. I knew that my impulsiveness and recklessness was sometimes unrivaled by others, but I didn’t know what it was. And just as I was finally understanding myself, I soon learned that the world around me had no clue what bipolar disorder was or how to react to it. I started to shield my diagnosis from everyone. I hated the expression people got on their faces when I told them that I had bipolar disorder like I was going to come unglued at any point. It was frustrating.
My marriage eventually did end anyway and heartbreak after heartbreak with my children changed me a lot. I found the love my life and his unwavering support for me gave me the strength I needed to be okay with who I was. That feeling was incredible and I wanted other people to feel that way too. I started blogging about random topics. All of my blogs are here for you to look at. Some of them are my escapades from before my diagnosis, some of them are some very tragic things that happen to me, and some of them are just me jabbering about life and what I think about it. One thing is consistent though and that is that I do not believe anyone should be ashamed of their illness. Embrace it. Survive it. You are a warrior.