One of my earliest memories is a Birthday Party for my twin sister and I. At the time you could have your Birthday Party at McDonald’s. I believe were around 9/10 years old.
At one point in the party I was outside. I remember standing outside the glass doors watching everyone laugh and fun with such ease. My twin seemed to be able to do this with no effort. I stood there watching for a long time. I thought “why can’t I be like them?”, “I want to go home”, “I can’t do this it’s too hard”. Even at that age I felt uncomfortable around people. I always felt like I was on the other side of that glass door watching other people live normal lives.
This feeling has never gone away. Not in 44 years. I just deal with it better now by pretending or isolating myself.
My mom was extremely close to one of her sister’s my Auntie Lee. I love my Auntie Lee. She does remind me a lot of my mom. It’s selfish but it’s one of the reasons I love to spend time with her. She is also the one other person who has accepted completely for who I am. Although like my mother she has no mental/verbal filter. lol
I talked to her the other day and told her I’ve been having a hard time lately. I also mentioned that I’m having trouble making the smallest decisions like what underwear put on! She laughed at that one. (Her laugh makes me happy and breaks my heart at the same time. It’s exactly like my mom’s.) She did say to me “Honey, you’ve always been that way. I think you’re just now noticing it. You’ve always been different. You were always more sensitive then the other kids, you would rather be around the adults or by yourself, you didn’t talk much you just soaked up what everyone else said and did. You were always observant, way more than kids your age. But you were so quiet it was painful to watch”.
In a way I was relieved that someone had noticed something. I was also sad that some people could see those things in me and not do anything about it. It’s hard to explain to my Dad or my sister that I’ve had symptoms from an early age. It’s hard for them to understand how much I’ve been through. I don’t want pity, I just don’t want what I’ve been through to be dismissed. Years and years of suffering I can’t even describe. And now medications do not work.
When I was younger Manic Episodes were great. Tons of energy, babbling, spending sprees, getting dressed up and going out, taking off to wherever I wanted, my own version of a Rockstar life. As I got older my Manic Episodes started to change. Specifically when I started to go through Menopause early. Now Manic meant irritability, anger and resentment. A feeling of being trapped in a cage. My Depressive Episodes started to last longer.
Bipolar Depression I suppose is different for everyone. I know I wouldn’t wish mine on my worse enemy. (Okay maybe I would) It’s the giant aching hole in my chest that’s filled with loss, grief, worthlessness, self loathing, guilt, shame, and just overwhelming sadness. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel. My brain plays memories of events I would rather not go over again constantly. Thoughts race around in my head about things I had no control over but somehow blame myself for anyway. And I keep asking why my twin sister doesn’t love me as much as I love her.
That is a big issue with me. When she told me she hosting Pre Party for Women’s March then going with a group of women I was happy for her. But she never once asked if I wanted to go. The march was focused on the Affordable Care Act and defunding Planned Parenthood. My sister brought up her “harassment” when she used to get her birth control pills from Planned Parenthood. The more she talked and the more I realized I wasn’t going to be invited, the angrier I became.
I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to ask her if she’s ever been called a “baby killer” at a party for everyone to hear. If she ever walked into an apartment for a party and saw hundreds of photocopied pictures of dead fetuses taped to the walls. The apartment owner thought it would be punishment because he had just become a Born Again Christian. I will remind you that this is the same person who sold drugs, slept with underage girls, and beat me to the point of unconsciousness. There were about 30 people already there. Instead of leaving like a normal person would do I sat down without any expression on my face and drank a pint of Firewater and about 16 beers. I wanted to ask her if she’s ever been called a “baby killer” and spit on by her best friend’s boyfriend. I accidentally punched him in the face. But it was pointless. I keep expecting people to understand things they are not capable of.
I go to the Psychiatrist on February 7th and I’m scared. Nothing has been working for a long time now. Only the fast acting medications like Adderall and Klonopin work. Everything else doesn’t. I’m tired of being an experiment. There has to be a better way. I’m getting worse. I leave the house once a month. I don’t want to do anything or go anywhere. I have no interest in anything. Something has to give.