Friday, December 23, 2011
I have eight children. Six of which are adopted, two I gave birth to.
Bipolar is genetic. Two of my kids are predisposed to the disorder. When I was first diagnosed I wondered where it came from. I mean, my parents seemed normal enough. Then I remembered my father's alcoholism and his drug seeking behavior. Hmmm, could he have been self medicating?
His mother was a total lunatic. Sorry, there's no other word to describe her. She was a mean spirited, awful woman. She also had this deep seated paranoia.
Then, after re-connecting with my dad's sisters, stories of bipolar came out. I have cousins with it, cousins I've never met because my grandmother farmed all of her kids out except for my father. I wish she had farmed him out too. He would have had a much better life. But that's another story.
What I really wanted to write about was my daughter, Karli, and her struggle with Bipolar I. I have Bipolar II. It's not as severe as Bipolar I. I have no hallucinations, no psychotic breaks, but she does.
I know I'm not to blame, but I can't help but feel terribly guilty of the defective gene I've passed on to my princess.
She wrote a post of her hallucinations tonight, a very brave move on her part. I'd like to ask you to read it, to try to understand the terror she lives with and maybe encourage her.
Her blog is called "A Bipolar Princess." She's a wonderful, loving girl and I'm lucky she's mine. I just feel terrible I'm the one that's made her suffer.