I'm Bipolar; scratch that. I HAVE Bipolar. It does not define me.
I will be doing a series on here as a writer talking about my journey through a path filled with many mental health obstacles. I will be talking about my struggles, strengths, skills used, stories, supporters, big and small impacts, and everything in between to help others know that a mental health journey is not a straight paved road. It is sometimes a dirt path, or a highway, a freeway. It can become any road you can think of. I will label each article or entry that does have graphic content in BOLD BIG LETTERS. at the top, so you, as a reader can feel safe trekking on this trip with me. All names besides mine are changed for the sake of privacy.
Let us begin
This story starts with a little girl who looks like 'Boo' from Monters Inc. She was pretty well behaved and her entire family loved her. but unlike the other kids, she would isolate herself and throw UNREALISTIC temper tantrums. These tantrums would last for hours and hours; longer than any other toddler really. Her mom was catching on that this wasn't normal and tried talking to her husband about it. Their marriage was very stressed, especially after the birth of their second child, Stacey.
Fast Forward one year.
I was starting kindergarten WITHOUT my dad. I remember getting on the bus the first day of school and wondering as the bus drove away, "Why is Momma crying?"
Well, my mom, like me, is not comfortable with change. Having her oldest finally go off the school for the VERY FIRST TIME scared her. On top of all of that, my dad had left. I didn't know why at that moment, but as school set in, I would be called down to the guidance counselor's office once every week. Miss. H would ask me questions about my parents and if they fought or if my dad ever hit my mom. I was told by her that my dad left my mom because they did't want to be married anymore.
As a five-year-old I had no idea what that meant for my sister and me. I remember sitting in that office and sobbing an uncontrollable amount about the subject. Why didn't my dad love mommy? Did he not love me? Even now I still ask myself that question but we will get there. I didn't know but I wouldn't see him again until I was 7. Two years without a dad. Two years of birthdays. Two years of Christmas'. Two years of Father's Days'. Two years of growth, because at that point I had to become strong. Stacey, Mom, and I weren't going to get by if I wasn't.
I've grown comfortable with the fact that I don't really know my dad, even though that 10 years later I live in the same house as him. Living with a stranger is difficult, especially when you can't hold a decent conversation on the rare occasion you two are in the same room together. I don't like my dad, AT ALL. He's a big trigger in my life and as we talk more I will get into why, but he has brought nothing but negativity into my personal space. I can't say he has given me much, because he really hasn't. Life? Maybe that, but if we could choose our parents I'd definitely not choose him.
We will continue next time.
With love, Julianna
7 y/o me