For as long as I can remember I have been different.  When I was a young I swung from crazy spontaneous and often dangerous or unreasonable ideas and actions to flat out depression with the feeling that I just didn’t want to survive, didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to go to school, didn’t want to see friends.  It was what I thought to be simply a creative immagination or a phase.

This went back all the way to elementary school, believing I could talk to god even preaching to other children “god’s” words.  Then there were the dramatic belief I was somebody else.  Not really “somebody else” but a heightened belief in myself that I was special and that my greatness was beyond measure.  I was special.  I was also dramatic durring those phases lol.  I remember putting on my mother’s wig, walking down our driveway and flat out demanding that my neighbor friends believe I was my own cousin.  I would grandly walk back and forth from my house taking that wig off and on so I could be the appropriate character when talking to my friends.  They could clearly see my hair sticking out from under that wig but alas I held my ground and had no idea what they were talking about.  I was always interested in singing, modeling, drama.  I fervently believed in my enlightened moments that I was destined for greatness.

On the not so good days I would go into panick over my mom’s safety.  I just knew she was going to die.  I also found that going to school was a difficult experience durring these times.  I never knew why I just wanted to be home watching tv or in bed.

Flash forward to my teenage years.  These were espesially tough.  I was promiscuous, jumped into everything that seemed “fun”. I started using drugs and drinking at about 13.  I was always looking for something, anything to take me out of where I was mentally and emoti0nally.  The problem with this line of thinking is that the substances make everything oh so much worse.  The regret, shame, danger, hurt, and so on.  There were times for no reason at all I didn’t want to go home.  Convinced everyone I was abused and would end up staying with friends or taking a road trip in which my parents were worried sick wondering where I was.  No they didn’t abuse me.  It was just a sick process I created durring what I now understand to be my manic episodes.  Once I went missing for a week and was on my way to becoming a prostitute for drugs.  Luckily the home I was staying became unavailable (I was kicked out) the night before I was going to leave with my friend to San Francisco where drugs aplenty were our destiny.  I had nowhere to go so I ended up on my brother’s couch and I was thwarted from my “brilliant idea”. Mind you this was all by the time I was 16.  Little was known about bipolar and the shrinks who saw me all thought it was daddy issues or depression or home life problems.  When I was put in the hospital after my 3rd suicide attempt I was quickly realeased because I was such a helper with the other patience.  Was told I should become a councelor.  I actually got a girl who wouldn’t leave her room and suffered from night terrors to attend a group meeting.  But then again I was destined for greatness remember.  Of course I would be a healer of all in my ward.

Durring my very young teenage years I met my husband.  He has been my soul mate since the day I met him.  I litteraly knew I was going to marry him the first moment I saw him.  For some reason god has placed this human who has been the kick my brain needs.  He has since I have been around 15 the one that called me out on my crap, was the only one who could get through to me durring varying episodes and beleive or not the only one my mom would call to “please go deal with her, I don’t know what is going on!!!” This is the man I married at 18 and 25 years later he is still my touch stone.  My illness was diagnosed only a few years ago but he just always knew I was “special” and to this day he reminds me to take my meds, helps me keep moving forward even when I feel like I can’t.  He also holds me accountable when I overspend (mania!!!) and he believes me.  That is so important.  To have that person who beleives you.  Not lets you get away with bad behavior, but sees your ebb and flow and walks with you through it.

So yes I have to listen to him when I’m in a state of “needing” a drink (I can drink as long as I don’t “need” to.).  Or I hate him because he is treating me like a child.  Or hide from him because I don’t want him catching me (whatever I geniously need to spend oodles of money on).   He is such a controlling and pain in the ass guy.  But this is what I love about him.  He accepts I am going to have variety but he will not let me use it as an excuse.  He will however often be waiting whenever I am coming down or ramping up to wherever my brain is taking me.

So there is a little back story.  My intention is to blog my daily ups and downs for what I don’t know yet.  there are enough informational videos blogs and such that my insight will hold no more value than any of theirs.  So if I can actually stick with it.  (I do have countless diaries with 1 entry which I lost cause I can’t remember where I put anything!!!) So I think this is just for me maybe… we will see.