Raw Writing for the Real World of Bipolar

Don't you ever just want to get off your medication? Sometimes I feel like it just isn't working and I've tried so many combinations. I try and try, but I just can't get it right. I'm tired of trying.

I remember my life before medications and I don't think it was so bad. Maybe I'm just discontented with the way my life is going. It seems like I'm on a road to nowhere and I should be on the road to somewhere.

I wonder if I should just get off my meds. I spend six months out of my year in depression. Of course, this year had extenuating circumstances since I experienced the death of my father.

I remember wanting to have an affair when I was manic. I wouldn't want to do that normally. I wouldn't want to wreck my family. Plus, my anger was out of control. I yelled at my children and I don't want to be that person.

So, I will stay on meds and try to work out a different combination. I think that I need to get off Pristiq and get back on Prozac. It always worked for me. The Pristiq makes me go too high and I can't sleep. I haven't had a decent night's sleep since my father died in late August. I just want to be able to sleep! I want the feeling of exhaustion that I feel every day to ease up. I'm so tired.

I just want to feel better. I'm due for a visit to the psychiatrist. I guess I'll have a good talk with her. Life has to get easier. It just has to.



A girl. Exploring the world of Bipolar Disorder one day at a time. Informing and educating the public about mental illness.

About the Author. Feel free to Email Cristina a comment or a question.Share Your Own Bipolar Story. Click here to Subscribe in a Reader.

© 2009 Cristina C. Fender

My tears dry on their own. I've spent the last few days reflecting on my life. It needs improving. Only I can do it. I spend my days doing things that don't reflect on the changes that I need.

I need to be more responsible for my life instead of waiting for it to happen to me. I need to make it happen. I need to get out of my house and into the world. I find that my days are filled with fatigue and unhappiness. I don't want this out of my life. I want sunshine and vigor.

I know that I have to be careful not to do too much or I will be stressed out and that will trigger a Bipolar episode, but I'm so tired of being careful not to upset the balance. I'm unhappy with the way my life is going, so I have to try and find a new balance.

I don't know what's right and what's real anymore. I'm always tediously balanced on the edge of my Bipolar. Would I still be unhappy even if I got out more? There's only one way to find out. I don't want to live my life worried I'll be taken over by the Bipolar Monster. I just want inner peace.



A girl. Exploring the world of Bipolar Disorder one day at a time. Informing and educating the public about mental illness.

About the Author. Feel free to Email Cristina a comment or a question.Share Your Own Bipolar Story. Click here to Subscribe in a Reader.

© 2009 Cristina C. Fender

I'll never go so far as to say that Bipolar is a blessing, but it's not as awful as I first imagined it to be.

Bipolar allows me to feel it all. All my feelings are intensified. I live life feeling all the happiness and sadness that surrounds my life. I don't get time to rest, but at least my life isn't numb.

Bipolar is a test of my strength. I may not always win the battle, but I can testify that I'm still here, my heart is still beating. I live with my heart on my sleeve. I live.

My appreciation of life is intensified during times of happiness. I appreciate my family because they keep me centered and fill my life with purpose. There might be snow on the path sometimes, but I know the sun will always come out to warm it.

In times of sorrow I appreciate my family even more. They keep me going, reaching for the sun. It may rain now and again, but the clouds will always be replaced by the sun eventually. My family reminds me of this in their smiles and laughter. I'm so thankful I have them. I would be lost without them.

I'm determined to win this war. I will battle every day, though I grow weary, just to know that I can do it. I can and will win this war. Everything and everyone depends on me to be a fighter. So, fight I shall.





A girl. Exploring the world of Bipolar Disorder one day at a time. Informing and educating the public about mental illness.

About the Author. Feel free to Email Cristina a comment or a question.Share Your Own Bipolar Story. Click here to Subscribe in a Reader.

© 2009 Cristina C. Fender

I've gained 20 lbs since September. I attribute it to my antidepressant and being depressed. What's one to do? Stay thin and become insane or get fat and be sane?

My weight gain is really bothering me. I was already overweight, but now I'm obese. And I had worked so hard to lose weight over this past year. It makes me want to cry. Why do have to choose between sanity and fitness?

I'm waiting for the day when these Bipolar medications don't have such awful side effects. When will that be? Do researchers even care that these medications are supposed to make us happy, but they make us unhappy at the same time?

I got my thyroid under control. Now I'm going to start walking again and I'm eliminating carbs out of my diet. Christmas will be hell. My mother-in-law makes these peanut butter balls that are phenomenal. I guess I'll have to suffer. I have to get this weight off as soon as possible!




A girl. Exploring the world of Bipolar Disorder one day at a time. Informing and educating the public about mental illness.

About the Author. Feel free to Email Cristina a comment or a question.Share Your Own Bipolar Story. Click here to Subscribe in a Reader.

© 2009 Cristina C. Fender

We are breakable. Does it make us fragile? Do the cracks in our souls mean we're going to shatter at any second?

I think about how my Bipolar makes me feel like my web is fragile. Sanity is a push and pull existence for me. Just when I think that I'm doing well, I slip and crack my head. Will all the cracks shatter my existence?

I choose to believe that my strength keeps me grounded and more solid than I otherwise would be. Strength comes in many forms. My strength keeps me aware of my surroundings internal and external. There are times when I wish that I could start fresh and all the cracks would be gone. But would I be me? Do all the countless tears seal up the cracks? Or do they just merely leak out?

I wish that Bipolar had never come into my world. I want to crawl back inside and pull the covers over my head in the hope that the remains will simply disappear. But I know that's the coward's way out. My strength has gotten me through years of this battle. I will battle on. It's my world now. I claim it as my own.

The cracks may still be there, but with a little of my own glue they will stay together. I'm not as fragile as it would seem.



A girl. Exploring the world of Bipolar Disorder one day at a time. Informing and educating the public about mental illness.

About the Author. Feel free to Email Cristina a comment or a question.Share Your Own Bipolar Story. Click here to Subscribe in a Reader.

© 2009 Cristina C. Fender

A month and a half ago I was put on an antidepressant--Pristiq. It's worked well. A little too well. Last night I went to bed at 9pm and I'm now awake at 1:30. I tried taking Xanax to calm me down so I could go back to sleep, but it's not working yet. I went down on the Pristiq last week in the hopes that it would control my sleeping patterns better, but it's not working. I think that I'm going to have to come off it all together. This is an awful time to be coming off my antidepressant, but I don't want to go over to mania. That will just lead me to a big crash and a big depression. I don't want to be in the hospital for the new year.

If only it would've worked and I would've been stable! I feel awful that it's not working like I want it to. I can feel the anger boiling under the surface and I know it's the mania speaking to me. This damn bipolar! I would give anything for it to go away, but it's not and I have to deal with it even if I feel like giving up. Meds only take one so far, ya know? I'm tired of battling for moments of joy, even if those moments of joy make life worth living. I'd like to have more moments of joy. Instead I'm given a heaping dose of reality and that reality is dark most of the time. I have to remember that even though the moments of joy are fleeting that they're there, waiting for me when I most need them. I'm thankful for them.




A girl. Exploring the world of Bipolar Disorder one day at a time. Informing and educating the public about mental illness.

About the Author. Feel free to Email Cristina a comment or a question.Share Your Own Bipolar Story. Click here to Subscribe in a Reader.

© 2009 Cristina C. Fender

I saw New Moon this weekend. Bella undergoes a depression when her boyfriend leaves her. It reminded me of myself. She sat like a zombie in front of her window for months, thinking of her situation. It frightened me that I saw myself in her. When I'm in a depression I cry for a little while and the rest of the time I see the world pass me by.

It's not like I want the world to pass me by, I just feel helpless to do anything about it. My mind whirls or sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes I just want to pull the covers over my head and ignore the world. I feel helpless to do anything about it.

At least this time I had the courage to seek out help before it got too bad. I'm on antidepressants. However, I'm sleeping less and less. Last night I only slept five hours. I think it's time to go off the antidepressants. Mania will soon be around the corner if I don't do anything about it. I have to be vigilant when it comes to my own care. I may not be a zombie anymore, but I don't want to become a different kind of monster, either.

About the Author: Cristina C. Fender, 34, is rapidly becoming an expert on Bipolar Disorder. She has been researching Bipolar Disorder and blogging about her own experiences for several years. At age 21 she was diagnosed with depression and saw psychiatrists for over ten years before she was correctly diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder I. Her vision for writing at Raw Writing for the Real World of Bipolar is to inform and educate the public about mental illness. Feel free to Email Cristina a comment or a question.Share Your Own Bipolar Story. Click here to Subscribe in a Reader.

© 2009 Cristina C. Fender

I pull my hair and claw my skin when I feel extremely anxious. It usually comes on when I feel so out of control that I need to feel that I'm in control again. It's a fight or flight response that I feel ashamed about, but it happens nonetheless. When I claw my skin it's like I'm trying to make the outside of myself feel worse than the inside, like I'm trying to let it all out of inside my body and brain.

While I'm doing it it feels good to let it out. Afterwords I notice the claw marks on my skin and I feel embarrassed. I feel like this illness is a monster that I cannot control and I feel shameful. What makes me feel the need to harm myself? I have to let it out. I have to get it out of my insides before it crushes me.

I don't do this often. I did it two times this past year. Once when my father was in the hospital and again when I held his boots after he died. The feelings overwhelmed me and I needed to get them out of me. Feeling the pain on my arms settled me somewhat. The pain was more tangible that way. It was serious and real. I didn't feel as crazy on the inside.

My therapist suggested that I write in my journal when I feel that out of control instead of harming myself, but when I'm in the throes of anxiety I can't think of anything except what I need to do--claw my skin.

It's a serious problem that I need to work on. Hopefully it won't happen again.

About the Author: Cristina C. Fender, 34, is rapidly becoming an expert on Bipolar Disorder. She has been researching Bipolar Disorder and blogging about her own experiences for several years. At age 21 she was diagnosed with depression and saw psychiatrists for over ten years before she was correctly diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder I. Her vision for writing at Raw Writing for the Real World of Bipolar is to inform and educate the public about mental illness. Feel free to Email Cristina a comment or a question.Share Your Own Bipolar Story. Click here to Subscribe in a Reader.

© 2009 Cristina C. Fender

I say this in love: Be honest with yourself and your psychiatrist. When she asks if you hear voices or see things, be honest. Don't worry she'll think that you're crazy. That's the least of your problems. It's better to have a correct diagnosis than to live ten years in pain.

Tell her about your anger issues. Tell her about your road rage. Tell her that you can't keep friends because you get so angry. Tell her how angry you are at the mother who abandoned you and that it makes you keep people at a distance because you don't trust easily.

Tell her about your sexual escapades. Tell her about your drug and alcohol use. Tell her the damage it causes on your soul.

Tell her about your obsessive need for perfection. The dishes have to line up just so or you won't do them. It's a problem that needs to be discussed. It's not just that your parents demanded it of you. You've taken it to another level.

Out of all the things I've told you, this is the most important: Be kind to yourself. Don't be so hard on yourself. All of these things will pass if you get help. Be kind to yourself and get the help you need. Don't be embarrassed to ask for it. You'll find yourself in you.

About the Author: Cristina C. Fender, 34, is rapidly becoming an expert on Bipolar Disorder. She has been researching Bipolar Disorder and blogging about her own experiences for several years. At age 21 she was diagnosed with depression and saw psychiatrists for over ten years before she was correctly diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder I. Her vision for writing at Raw Writing for the Real World of Bipolar is to inform and educate the public about mental illness. Feel free to Email Cristina a comment or a question.Share Your Own Bipolar Story. Click here to Subscribe in a Reader.

© 2009 Cristina C. Fender

When I was thirteen I became very depressed. I wrote in my journal a lot and I sat in my closet so nobody in the house would hear me cry. I've always been a loud crier. Tears didn't merely slide down my cheeks. I sobbed. That year I wrote in my diary for the very first time that I wanted to die.

My parents were ignorant about mental health. I was only threatened that I needed to see a psychiatrist when I was bad. My stepmother found my journal that year and read it. She never saw the red flag. I continued to have depression every year around the same time in my life and it got worse when my grandmother died. I grew up thinking that what I was going through was normal.

When I turned twenty-three, I broke up with my boyfriend. I had a bottle of pills in my house from having my wisdom teeth out. I wanted to take those pills and never wake up. I finally sought out help by myself. I was scared that I would return to depression with a vengeance. I was diagnosed with depression and I went on my way.

My life was filled with going out, doing drugs and shopping, lots of shopping. I was living beyond my means, going out and paying for drinks and cigarettes and clothes to look fabulous in while doing all that. I also had anger issues. I was consistently mad at the other drivers on the road. I had hardly any friends because I always got mad at them for one trivial thing or another.

I also moved around a lot. It was hard to get along with a roommate especially because all my projects were strewn out all over the floor. I had projects upon projects. A lucky few got completed, but most were discarded because I would become frustrated with myself that I could not get them all done at once. I also continued to get depressed every year around the same time. I would visit a psychiatrist and I would get my antidepressant filled until I was sick of taking it. I also had panic attacks. A couple of them were severe enough to warrant a trip to the ER. I was always flabbergasted when they said I had panic attacks. I didn't understand them, but I just figured they were part of my life and, again, I went on my way and ignored them.

It wasn't until I began seeing advertisements on television about medication for Bipolar Disorder that I began to piece my life together. What they were describing was my life. I went online and took a questionnaire and I took it to my psychiatrist. He looked it and then looked at me and told me that he was certain that I had it.

I was devastated. My life turned upside down. How could this one word, Bipolar, define me? A friend of mine asked me if this could possibly be true. How could I have missed all the warning signs? I told her that I thought they were normal. I thought it was normal to see hallucinations outside of the corners of my eyes. I thought I was just going through a phase when I craved sex and drugs. I thought it was all normal. And, it was. For me.

About the Author: Cristina C. Fender, 34, is rapidly becoming an expert on Bipolar Disorder. She has been researching Bipolar Disorder and blogging about her own experiences for several years. At age 21 she was diagnosed with depression and saw psychiatrists for over ten years before she was correctly diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder I. Her vision for writing at Raw Writing for the Real World of Bipolar is to inform and educate the public about mental illness. Feel free to Email Cristina a comment or a question.Click here to Subscribe in a Reader.

© 2009 Cristina C. Fender

I am alone. At least, I feel alone. And, it's my own fault. I feel lonely in my own family and I shouldn't feel that way. This loneliness is self-inflicted. I push people away. I don't want anyone to get too close for fear that they won't like what they see.

I push my family away. For the past month I've been holding my children at a distance. I hug and kiss them, but there is no emotion involved except annoyance. I'm annoyed all the time now. My dear husband tries to lure me out, but I hold him, too, at a distance. Not physically. I let him hug me and kiss me, but I don't actively participate. It's not that I don't love him, it's just that I'm holding myself back.

I feel like I shouldn't get too close to them. They might see more into my soul more than everyone else and they might not like what he sees. I know this is ridiculous since they've been with me through the worst times in my life, but reason doesn't work here.

I feel a deep seated shame over my behavior the past month. I've been critical and irritable and angry. How could my husband love me when I'm like that? I feel the horrible emotion and I try to withhold it from coming out of my mouth, but often times the emotion wins.

I'm constantly on the lookout for the beginnings of mania and depression. Sometimes I feel like that takes all my energy. I'm more stable than I've ever been in my life, but I still have a fear that Bipolar will take over my life. I still have bad days when I'm depressed for the day or I have horrible anger, but I'm pleased to say that the hallucinations are gone. I still have insomnia problems, but I've learned to deal with it by taking naps and trying to get more sleep. I am working on it. Now it's time to work on being less reserved.

I didn't used to be so reserved. I once was bubbly and friendly. The Bipolar has made me scared to be myself. I think I'm a monster inside. Why would I share that with others? I need to be less terrified and put myself out there. What's the worst that could happen?

My resolution is simple. I'm going to try and hold back the anger and criticisms from now on. I'm going to feel each and every embrace and stop what I'm doing to enjoy it. When I meet new people I'm not going to be reserved. I'm going to be myself. Maybe then I won't feel so lonely.

About the Author: Cristina C. Fender, 34, is rapidly becoming an expert on Bipolar Disorder. She has been researching Bipolar Disorder and blogging about her own experiences for several years. At age 21 she was diagnosed with depression and saw psychiatrists for over ten years before she was correctly diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder I. Her vision for writing at Raw Writing for the Real World of Bipolar is to inform and educate the public about mental illness. Feel free to Email Cristina a comment or a question.Click here to Subscribe in a Reader.

© 2009 Cristina C. Fender

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During manic times, a bipolar tends to shop a lot. Shopping includes getting things you have little use for, but you feel you absolutely need it. Mania makes you crave a lot of things, but for me it was mostly shopping.

I bought things that I don't even remember buying. Most of the things that I bought I no longer even have. We purge our house every six months or so of things that we no longer need. The only thing that I can remember buying during one of my buying sprees are, ironically enough, my Buddha statues. All the clothing that I bought has long since been discarded.

I got high when I bought things. It would make me manically happy. I would sigh with satisfaction when I brought my shopping bags inside my house. I giddily put them away in their respective places.

Then the high would dissipate and it would be time to shop again. I shopped and shopped until I shopped myself into bankruptcy. I owed thousands of dollars and I didn't know what I had bought. I filed for bankruptcy after I learned I had Bipolar Disorder. It was a devastating blow.

Now I shop cautiously. I ask myself if I really need the item. I have a budget in mind before I shop. It's been a long road to get to where I am. If I had known sooner that my shopping was out of control due to my Bipolar Disorder I would've gotten help sooner. But, I didn't. Such is life.

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© 2009 Cristina Fender

AVAILABLE IN ONLINE STORE

Have you ever seen or heard things that aren't really there? You're probably experiencing psychosis.

I've seen cockroaches and ants crawling on the walls that weren't really there. I was in the middle of a manic cycle. At first, it wasn't all that traumatic because I've seen bugs that weren't really there during other times in my life. I just thought it was my imagination, not a psychotic episode.

I've also heard things like my child yelling for me and squeals and buzzing in my ears. Once again, I thought that it was my imagination working overtime. It was a little annoying, but I got through it.

When I saw a picture of an eye wink at me, during another manic phase, that I freaked out. Why was my brain making me see things like that? Mania makes things a little weird. Your entire body freaks out from lack of sleep. I was tired, very tired. It makes sense that I would see and hear things out of the normal.

After I had my baby, I experienced postpartum psychosis. I saw two androids standing at the edge of my chair holding out their hands to take the baby to me. I really freaked out then. It was the most horrific thing I've seen. I had gone weeks without proper sleep. My body was protesting and it was time for me to listen.

Since then I've been taking Ambien to sleep. Without sleep my moods fluctuated a lot so the best thing I could do was to sleep on a regular basis. I haven't seen or heard anything abnormal for a while. I'm very thankful, too. Seeing things or hearing things just made me feel crazy. I was up for anything that didn't make me feel that way.

Ambien was a god send. I take it faithfully every night. Moods are more controllable with proper sleep patterns. With the exception of times when I've had to adjust my dosages, my moods have been under control. And that is a god send.

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© 2009 Cristina Fender

I began blogging about my Bipolar experiences several years ago. I mainly started blogging as a form of therapy. I had just found out that I had Bipolar. I was only two months pregnant with my second child and I desperately needed an outlet for the rage and sadness that I was feeling.

I didn't expect to find friends. I only wanted to get the feelings out of me and onto a diary. After finding friends that were not only going through some of what I was going through, I began to think that this avenue of therapy was more than that. I could help others that were experiencing the same things I was experiencing to not feel so alone. In turn, I began to feel accepted as I was and I felt like I was part of something bigger than myself.

Blogging for therapy was the best thing I ever did. Sure, I get critiques and messages from those who choose to be med free and try to convince me to do the same. I have previously found them to be nuisances, but now I take them with a grain of salt. I know that the advice is well intentioned even if I find it is unwarranted. I do gain information from them and I tuck it away as one more thing I've learned since I started blogging.

The best feeling is knowing that I've reached someone who understands and relates to my posts. I get a lot of emails and comments from those whose lives I've touched. It touches my heart to know that my posts have made some sort of difference in the lives around me.

But, really, the bottom line is that I have made a difference in my own life. This online form of therapy helps me really sort out my feelings and it soothes me. I know that even if there are no comments and emails that my soul is more at peace for getting the feelings out of me and on 'paper'. And that makes all the difference in my world.

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© 2009 Cristina Fender

I was thirteen when I began to crawl in my closet and sob that I wanted to die. This became a regular practice for me. I believe that this is when I should have garnered the diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder, but my parents were ignorant when it came to Mental Health disorders.

Adolescent Bipolar diagnoses are on the rise, in part to the education of many adults on the disorder. Time has brought us a new understanding of mental illness. There's much more in the news about the disorder. Celebrities have brought the issue of mental disorders to the forefront in the news. The diagnosis of Adolescent Bipolar Disorder has also be in the news thanks to the FDA hearings on the drugs Seroquel, Zyprexa and Geodon. It also has been the source of much controversy. Can adolescents even have bipolar disorder?

It's been my experience that Bipolar Disorder in Adolescents is real and documented. Unfortunately, this is not a made up disorder. It is real and in the eyes and hearts of many of our young teens. It is my hope that the further education of our adults will prevent our adolescents from having to experience suicidal thoughts and actions.

© 2009 Cristina Fender

Wow, it’s been a rough and wonderful few weeks. My article on Health.com on Life as a Bipolar Mom was featured on CNN and it got a lot of buzz. Some of it was good and some of it was bad. I didn’t figure in the stigma of Bipolar Disorder until it was too late, but I’m glad that I came out of the ‘Bipolar Closet’.

A while ago I told my family. It was difficult then, too. It was hard to have a conversation about my diagnosis by three different doctors with parents that don’t believe in mental illness. My father asked what Bipolar Disorder was about. After I told him that it’s a mental disease that alternates between the highs of mania and the lows of depression he was silent. My mother, on the other hand, gave me a load of crap on how it was just a label that the doctors were trying to place on me and I needed to ignore them. I told my best friend of over ten years and she promptly asked me questions about my medications and she’s since stated that she’s worried that I take too many of them. I told my Unitarian Universalist church group and they were supportive, mainly because many of them are educated and liberal.

There’s such a horrible stigma attached to Bipolar. It’s not enough that we have to try and live our everyday lives as normally as we possibly can. We’re bombarded in the media, too. When a celebrity comes out of the closet it is with shock and taboo. Look at the media blitz that occurred when Britney Spears was hospitalized with her disorder. Since then she’s tried to maintain a lower profile while trying to deal with her disorder and regain rights to her children. She’s proven that she, like many others with the disorder, can regain stability in her illness. This doesn’t mean that she won’t relapse. Unfortunately, it’s tougher for her becase the media will be there, too, when it happens.

I believe that it’s imperative to our journey to mental stability to come out of the closet anyway. It may be a hard road to travel, but I think it helps you grow. Hearing some ridiculous taunts and advice may be difficult to hear, but I think it helps, too. Most of the advice that I’ve received has been aimed at the medications that I take. I’ve heard everything about homeopathic remedies and that getting off my medications would be the best thing for me. While some of the advice is well intentioned, I also feel that some of it is self-serving. These people don’t know me. They don’t know what it’s like to be in my body and experience hallucinations or suicidal thoughts. They don’t know how horrible I feel when I cry that my life is not what I wanted it to be before my diagnosis. I wanted to be a writer or a lawyer. Now I feel that those dreams can’t be accomplished. These people don’t know how defeated I feel sometimes.

But when you come out of the Bipolar closet, you don’t do it for them. You do it for you. You do it to prove to yourself that you are worthy, even if they don’t agree with you. You do it to fight the stigma out there. You are a normal person, even if you’re a little tainted by a mental illness. You’re still you. You do it to educate the person standing next to you so hopefully they will learn to understand that this is a disease of the mind, not of the soul.

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© 2009 Cristina Fender

I’m a little nervous about this summer. I’ll have two children to entertain except for one to two hours that they take their nap. It’s been a while since I’ve had to do this. I’m panicky because I don’t want to let them down. It’s up to me to show them a good time this summer.

I started out by signing them up for dance classes. Tomorrow’s Little Mara’s first dance class and her mommy (me) is not allowed in the studio. I’m a little freaked. How will she take it? Will she cry for me or be so consumed with all the new friends she’ll make that she won’t even know for an hour that I’m gone. Frankly, I don’t know which one I prefer. This is the first time this has been tested. Part of me wants her to pick me and part of me wants her to be independent and strutt her little stuff out there!

Alexis starts class a few days later. I really think she’ll love it. She’s been running around in her dance costume with her ballet shoes on one minute and her tap shoes on the next! She’s so excited and can’t wait to start. She puts a huge smile on my face. It’s amazing how much she’s grown this past year. She’s so courteous, so smart and she amazes me every single day of my life. I see in her an old soul with a boisterously large heart.

I really want to enrich their lives culturally this summer. I’d love to be able to take Alexis to a play. I want to take them to the Children’s Museum. I want to take them to an Art Gallery. I want to take them on a trip through the Botanical Gardens so they can smell the flowers and see the pretty water features. I want to take them to the Library once a week so that Alexis’ gift of reading does not die over the summer.

I want to do a lot. I hope I can do it. In a small voice, I say, “maybe”. Maybe if I can keep myself together. Maybe if I don’t burst. I’m shaking my head and my heart is beating so hard. I want to do this. I just don’t want my bipolar to get in the way.

Then I must remind myself---“Take it one day at a time. Tomorrow is Mara’s first dance class. Breathe. The other can come if you feel like it. Don’t beat yourself up. You get out of the bed in the morning. You open the blinds. You make the breakfast. You get them dressed. You are in a much better place than you were a year ago. There is much in which to be proud. If the bipolar stuff gets in the way, you’ll be able to push it away. You have much in which to be proud.”


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© 2009 Cristina Fender