My Only Silence is Sleeping

The only true silence for me is when I am asleep. What is silence when you can’t sleep? I can’t imagine a solemn silence. My brain has so many damn tabs open at once that I can’t keep up right now. My house is disgusting and I have so much energy but I am so drained. I’m being pulled from every direction, here and far, I can’t find the strength to clean my house today. It’s bad, for the way I like to keep my house. It represents all the ugly, screaming, exhausting, exhilarating, fucking loud thoughts that just so happen to scream at the same time. I can’t get my thoughts together, how the hell am I supposed get my house together? The beginning of the down may be here. I need sleep, I really hope it’s just that I haven’t slept in over 26 hours. I really hope my sleep schedule isn’t throwing me into a spiral downward. I really hope a nap will help. I really hope that I can find it within myself to show patience and lots of love to my children when they get home from school today, and not take out my anxieties on them. I really hope!! It’s all we really have is hope, not silence. There is no silence for me, there is always at least a whisper, unless I am sleeping.


The Beginning of My Nightmare


I will tell you a little about myself. I have been blogging my experiences with living with bipolar disorder on Facebook for about one year and a half. I have finally decided that blogging should be on a blogging spot. I truly hope all of my followers on Moms House of Insanities and Profanities will have it in their hearts to read my blogs on a completely different website.

I am 34 years old, married with three beautiful, rambunctious, loving and troublemaking children. I am a stay at home mom and feel fortunate most of the time to be able to stay home. My children are 9,7 and 3.

I am a busy mom with no organization and chaos is my middle name. Just ask the kids. If my head wasn’t attached, I would have lost it long ago. I am extremely passionate about sharing my story because so many people think they are alone in their battle with any mental illness. The stigma associated with it only holds us back from receiving the care we really need, people are afraid of us, although 1 in 4 of us battles a mental illness.

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder at the age of 15 after a 2 week visit to the mental hospital. The doctors claimed it was “drug induced bipolar”. Boy were they wrong. I will blog about this in detail at the right time.  Diagnosing this disease, yes disease, can be extremely difficult, and finding the right combination of medicine seems almost impossible. I had to trust my doctors and yes they let me down, but my life has changed in so many ways since finding the right combination. It only took 18 years, but I’m here. That seems like forever, but there is hope. I still have my manic and depressive episodes but they are no where as severe. My family may not agree but they didn’t see me at the age of 22, where I would spend 2 more weeks in the ward.

My children saved my life because I was constantly self medicating with lots of alcohol, and I mean lots. For a bipolar patient, alcohol can depress you even more and obviously become suicidal. They are my life, and I try for them everyday. Some days they don’t understand but they always make me feel loved, even though I’m different.

I have finally accepted that I have a lifetime disease and will be on medication for the rest of my life. My passion to spread the word and help others through their struggles has never been so flaming hot. This blog is my life, my truths and my story. My stories are raw and can be triggering to some. I cuss like a sailor and it’s something I will not change. It’s who I am and  it gets me through the day, along with my smokes and my medications.

Welcome to my journal, I will post current and past situations. I’m hoping to spread the word, to  make people aware that this is real, it’s an epidemic on the rise and we as a country and people need to address it.

We are not alone in our battles. Life is a beautiful struggle. Mine just happens to be a beautiful disaster.