Out of the Chaos

The Why

I get really frustrated when I hear people - adults, kids, anyone really - refer to something or someone else as "bipolar." They say it so flippantly and use it so carelessly that it's pretty clear that they know nothing about bipolar. Undiagnosed or improperly treated, bipolar disorder is the thing of nightmares. It's being afraid to go home because you never know which version of your mom you're going to get. It's hiding in your bedroom to avoid conversation because one wrong comment could, at best, cause tears, or at worst, leave you cornered and helpless as objects and hands hit whatever they can reach - whatever you can't cover. Bipolar disorder makes you flinch if happy mom reaches for a dish towel because irate mom uses it the way Mexican mamas use chanclas.

Bipolar disorder can cause financial strain on your family because the manic moments inspire impulsive spending on things you can't afford, which then causes the depressive spirals when the bills can't be paid.

And nothing, absolutely nothing will make you grow up faster than living in a house with a mother whose roller coaster of emotions teaches you to get out of bed thirty minutes early to avoid her, to open dog food cans just right so there's no reason for her to yell, or that the "best" way to make yourself feel better is to destroy something. Nothing will make you grow up faster than shielding your sister from an outburst then sprinting to the neighbor's house to find someone, anyone, to help you calm mom down.

Growing up with my mom was like living in a minefield: one wrong step and the world was blown to smithereens.

If people could understand this, then maybe bipolar wouldn't be a joke.