You can dress a monkey up in silk….
…but it’s still a monkey.
Most of my friends know I can be a little unstable. The fact that I can count my friends on my fingers and still pet the dog is a perfect testament to that.
I’m Bi-Polar. That’s an established fact. Diagnosed in 1996 during a period when i was in and out of trouble, we tried a number of different drug therapies. Lithium mixed with a dozen other anti-depressants, all of which left me spinning out of control or suicidal.
I firmly believe that Bi-Polar disorder is a combination of nature and nurture. I think there are many people out there who are Bi-Polar who are taught coping skills. I’ve learned them the hard way, through trial and error. I still have issues from time to time, but I can usually ride them out.
I worry for my children. I know that in large part of this that my problem will be theirs. My only hope is that I can apply the lessons I learned to my upbringing of them. Maybe I can teach the coping mechanisms that my parents were incapable of teaching me.
The hardest part is – guilt.
It’s hard to know you’ve dealt your kids a crappy genetic hand – to know that they are going to have to face a lot of the hardships that you did. It’s hard knowing that the nightmares of your youth could become theirs.
Guilt is a powerful weapon. A hell of a monkey on your back.
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“I have not, and will not, make the same mistake with my kids. This is not to say I won’t make all new mistakes, but I won’t make these. And if I do nothing else right in my life, I’ll set them loose on the world with at least a cursory set of tools to get through the rough spots.”
As a parent, you really can’t do any better than this! Your kids are luckier than many!!
I hate commenting on my own posts, but it seems more honest than editing a mistake and trying to pretend I wrote it correctly in the first place.
I dealt my kids a crappy genetic hand. This is true. They will have to fight their whole lives to deal with the weird shit their mind keeps throwing at them.
However, that being said I’m also committed to making sure I don’t repeat the mistakes my parents made. My father ignored me in hopes I’d go away, my mother enabled *ALL* of my bad behaviors out of some psychotic guilt that no doubt comes with being a lapsed catholic.
I have not, and will not, make the same mistake with my kids. This is not to say I won’t make all new mistakes, but I won’t make these. And if I do nothing else right in my life, I’ll set them loose on the world with at least a cursory set of tools to get through the rough spots.