Live for the Moment--Bipolar Experiences

There was a little girl
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead

And when she was good
She was very, very good
But when she was bad, she was horrid!

         Mama always said that rhyme applied to me, but I think it was more fitting for her.  You see, Mama had bipolar disorder and growing up dealing with the ups and downs that came with it was often like living with multiple people. 

         I say multiple because even though bi- means two, polar refers to the extremes, but there are countless other levels between those two.  At one moment she could be wonderfully warm, fun, or funny and at another she’d be sulky, brooding, or sad.  Other times she’d be energetic, determined she could do anything she set her mind to, even if it was an impossible task; then she’d be pessimistic, even cruel, hateful, and hurtful toward others before turning that anger on herself.

          I could pour out many negatives:  bad experiences, embarrassments, memories of hateful words, disappointments, and heartbreak, but I’d rather dwell on the positives.  Yes, as hard as it may be to imagine, there were many positive times.

         For instance, I remember Mama during some of her good days, laughing and joking.  She had such a tremendous sense of humor.  She took great joy in the beautiful things in life:  her garden, her children, her scrapbooked memories.  She’d spend hours caring for her plants, tending her flowers, grooming and pruning the trees she’d grown from seedlings.  She was just as caring with her children, spending as much time as she could with my sisters and me.  “Sandra, Deborah, and Sarah:  my three favorite and most beautiful flowers,” she would say.  She treasured her scrapbooks, filled with photos of the good times, journal entries of her thoughts and feelings, artwork, and mementoes of our trips and travels.

         Of course, these same things she had such passion for during the good times also bore the brunt of her fury during the bad times.  Flowers and saplings were trampled, broken, and uprooted; children were pushed aside, screamed at, insulted, punished for no reason; photos were shredded, burned, and destroyed.

         Maybe you're thinking: “You keep going back to the bad things when you said you were going to talk about the good things.”  And you’d be right.  That’s because many of the positive things I learned came out of the negative times.  It may be hard to imagine anything positive coming from the negative aspects I’ve briefly touched on, but it’s true.

         It was during the negative times that my sisters and I learned to stick together.  We learned to support one another, to have compassion, concern, affection, and genuine sisterly love for one another.  Sandra, as the oldest, often cared for Sarah, the youngest, and for me.  We each used our skills and talents to help each other, to help Mama, and to help Pops. 

         Sandra is the sensible, logical one.  She could deal with things on a non-emotional level, reasoning things out and coming up with workable solutions.  Even now, Pops goes to her with things he thinks will upset me too much. 

         I’m the emotional, sensitive one.  Where compassion and understanding are called for, that’s my department.  When Mama was at her worst, I could calm her.  When she was fearful, I could comfort her.  When she was angry, I could offer understanding and diffuse the volatility of the situation before it got too far out of hand.  When she was stubborn and refusing to take her medication, I was the one who could appeal to her emotions and reach her heart.

         Sarah is the humorous one.  She could see the funny side of even the worst situation.  I remember one time Mama was in a rage.  Poor unsuspecting Sarah waltzed across the patio after Mama had sent Sandra and me to our rooms.  Mama was infuriated, thinking Sandra or I had disobeyed and she sent a pot hurtling toward the patio, hitting Sarah in the shoulder.  She screamed and Mama grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her to our room, shoved her in, and slammed the door.  An angry scrape and thick red welt inched its way across her shoulders, followed by a dark purple bruise.  Looking at her injury in the mirror, she smiled.  “I get a free turn being bad, see,” she said, pointing to the ugly bruise, “I got this for nothing so the next time I’m naughty I’ve already been punished.”

         All of us learned to be more understanding of others.  We learned tolerance, endurance, and compassion for people of all different backgrounds and walks of life.  We learned to be patient, to not jump to conclusions.  We learned to take the good with the bad, but more importantly, to appreciate and enjoy the good times while we had them and to roll with the punches when things got rough.  We learned not to hold grudges, to be forgiving, and to take time to think before responding when treated poorly.

         Dealing with Mama’s bipolar disorder was often difficult and always sad but my sisters and I learned from the experience, both the good times and the adversity.  Mama passed away two years ago but my sisters and I, because of our shared experiences, are still very close.  We’ve helped each other through many rough spots, both in dealing with our parents’ health issues and surviving hard times in our own lives.

         In short, we’ve learned how to take life a moment at a time, storing up the energy and pleasure from the good times, using this reserve to weather the bad times.

         My friends, live for the joy of each moment for you never know what the next one will bring.