An article about my mother that she will probably never see

So I was hanging out with my mom last night. She is helping me get in a little bit of practice in before I go for my licence. Which is great. 8 years later, it's finally going to happen. Woot!

As per usual, we ended up talking about me being bipolar. It comes up naturally in discussion, especially with it being at the forefront of my mind lately. As usual, Mom ended up belittling what I'm going through.

I said that I'm a little bit manic right now. I know I am. The Dreams are back (I have the craziest dreams instead of truly sleeping when I'm manic). I need to speak. It's like pressure behind my lips. Just sitting, I feel like I need to pant because my body is moving so fast. ... I know what I'm feeling now. I've learned enough to be able to recognize it even though I'm just learning what may cause it.

So I told Mom that I'm feeling a little bit manic. Mom replied that everybody feels like that once in a while.

I told Mom that I'm in the process of upping my dose of the drug. She said that if I was feeling better, she couldn't understand why I was upping the dose. She doesn't want to know how fast I'm cycling and how I've been feeling lately. She's not interested. I think she hopes that I can eventually come off the drugs and be normal.

I told her that I was so proud of myself for being able to put my credit and debit cards in my room and leave them there. And to be able to go shopping with Joce last weekend and actually be able to budget for what I wanted. She says everybody goes through that. I told her that for me it wasn't about buying stuff. It was about the purchase. I can go on ebay and buy something, anything, just to spend the money. I'm quite often surprised when it shows up in the mail. And I hate that. I don't think that's normal. She just made that face that says that she doesn't believe me.

This isn't the only time that she makes me feel like what I'm feeling or going through isn't real or that I'm exaggerating. I'll be the first to mention that my Mom is mildly bipolar but not enough to need an actual diagnosis or to be on medication. But there are times that I feel like standing there screaming "Have you ever not slept for days on end because you have too much energy? Have you ever had the urge to kill yourself? How about to mutilate yourself? Have you ever picked a hole in your skin just to see if you bleed because you are having trouble believing that you are still human because you can't feel anything? Have you ever stood there yelling at somebody over something completely retarded, paused to apologize and then just keep yelling? Have you ever broken something during a fit of rage? Have you ever started crying in public for no reason? Have you ever pushed somebody away because you are scared that the pain inside of you is going to hurt them? Have you ever felt like you've polluted every relationship you have ever had? Because I have! And I know that most of these feelings are NOT within the realm of 'normal'."

I remember once, I was in high school at the time and it was my second or third severe depressive episode, that I went into the living room where my parents were watching TV. I sat down on the couch next to my mom and during the next commercial break, I attempted to express a fear I was having. It was the first time I ever felt like killing myself. I was so scared because I never felt like that before and I had for the last few days. I was scared that I wasn't going to be able to contain that urge. My parents pretty much said "No you don't". They didn't believe that what I said was serious. I got brushed off at a time when I really need not only them, I needed professional help.

One day I'll figure out how to talk to both of my parents in a way that they will finally understand what I'm going through.

I don't think I'm the only one on the bipolar scale either. I think Conley is too. He's always had a touchy personality. He starts yelling at the drop of a hat. He tried to kill himself once. He swallowed a whole bottle of Tylenol. He didn't realize that acetaminophen will make you really sick instead of stopping your ability to live. He had his bedroom in the basement of the town house at the time. I remember going over there the day after he did this (he did it late in the evening). Conley was down in his room sleeping and occasionally puking! Mom acted like him being sick was his just reward for swallowing that bottle. She never took him in. She never recommended that he should probably talk to somebody. She never called a mental health crisis line. I don't even remember her checking on him while I was there. I was scared that he would have puked in his sleep and choked. Tylenol has a heavy sedative effect. I bet you her tune would have been different if he had mixed that bottle with a little drain cleaner (fatal mix in a large enough quantity). Or if he had added a heavy enough sedative (he would have choked when he puked). Or if he had chosen a different pill. There are a lot of pills that are toxic in large doses. (Example, lithium, the drug they typically use treat bipolar. Isn't it funny that they give bipolar people something to kill themselves with.) Conley, fortunately seems to have grown out of most of the bipolar symptoms.

But when are my parents, and mostly my mother, realize that this is more than just being happy or sad? When is she going to lend some validity to what I'm feeling? When am I actually going to be able to rely on them as part of my support network? I don't think it's to much to ask or expect.