I’m one out of 2% of the human population on this planet which are officially count to be Bipolar and God knows if these numbers are correct.
I was born the daughter of a schizophrenic mother, which can be mentioned now but was not even diagnosed until after her suicidal death in 2011. During her lifetime all she was diagnosed to be suffering from, was a severe depression. But it needs more than just being depressed to reject your own child because of it’s gender and to live a whole life without a consciousness for reality. I mean that woman’s life was all dungeons and dragons and there were battles fought where there were not even battlefields – but oh hell, there were so many corpses.
But she only had some sort of a two-layer vision which enabled her to participate in life like everyone else. She would just seem a little unorganized and of some sort of a roughneck. People would think she is conceited and not even pay too much attention, because she wouldn’t care too much either. Participating in society as a matter of fact, works in giving and recieving – you don’t care so they don’t care – so her disguise was perfect.
Just not for us children, because with her being our mother there was no off-time. We wouldn’t just see her for work or a couple of hours socialising. We were trapped with her and we had to go through the magic door leading to Narnia, in order to find our mother in the depths of her current imagination. This was so normal for us, we even used to mock each other whenever a situation was of need to approach her, like to sign some shit for school or when there was something to be purchased. We wouldn’t get things easily. First it was count to dive into her ocean, observe some of her scenes like watching a movie and then somehow lead her into the right direction of her mind, in order to reach the desired focus to get her do what was needed.
God knows it needs a lot of intellect and rational understanding to grow that ability as a child in first place. Looking back on it, I shall probably say: thanks to God there was our father for the first seven years of my life, else we wouldn’t have possibly been presented the needed environment and security to develop this understanding. Doesn’t matter what kind of a father he had been. Doesn’t matter what harm we experienced from his hands. He was there to support our growth until that day. I had these seven years under his influence, my brother only had four – what happened to him later in life is a tragedy but what to expect? My father is not to be blamed for anything. I’m thankful I am where I am and my mind is what it is today.
But this just besides to give a slight inside into which environment I was born with my Bipolar “disorder”. There was no foundation given to be recognized in first place. With time past, I had to understand I wasn’t just feeling alone and the depressions I suffered were not just irrational feelings but result of many real and abstract circumstances. In my case being Bipolar was an actual benefit, because the border which seperates me because of my “disorder” has protected me from things which would have harmed me severly in the other case. At least this is what my psychiatrist concluded and what I have to agree on in retro-perspective.
Also I need to mention that I was explained to be an autodidact, which means I learn and understand things without being teached by someone else. Like, once I figure something I simply adapt to it. For example: This is not my language. I am a german but since I liked the tone of the english language, I started watching movies and series in english and adapted to it before english classes were even offered at school and because it suits me better, I chose this to be my language in writing. Or let’s say my prefered language in everything and thanks to the internet and imports I can comfortably live my habit 😀