Who Am I? My Own Personal Hell on Earth

BiPolar disorder, when I was diagnosed it was merely known as Manic Depression. No one EVER talked about it and most had no idea what it even was. Then all of sudden those words came into my life.
My day had started like any other on that bitterly cold morning. The ice was hanging from the trees like lace, it was so beautiful. But after I arrived at Kindergarten that morning I would never be the same.

Our beloved teacher was out sick so we had a substitute. It really wasn't that unusual, even though we didn't have one very often it had occurred.
But today was to be a different experience altogether. I don't really remember how it started. I do however remember her face just inches from mine as she screamed. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT?"
I didn't even know what she was talking about but she just kept yelling. "LIAR, LIAR why are you lying?"

Ironically, I didn't really know that liars really existed. In my family, we didn't lie. Whatever I said my parents knew was the truth. That was just the way it was. So as she screamed liar, liar at me, my mind fell apart.
She grabbed me by the shoulders and shook as hard as she could. Thank heavens she was a tiny woman, but I was really little. The seams of my dress ripped as the material gave way to her vigorous shakes.
The tears fell down my cheeks as I kept saying "I'm not a liar." Nothing mattered to her. She was convinced I was guilty and whatever I said was inconsequential.

When my Mama picked me up I was deep in the darkness of a breakdown. It was a dark period for me, days later when I was so far into the world my parents didn't know anything about they took me to the doctor. Because they just wanted me to get over it. They were furious with the teacher and the school. (Side note) the teacher was never allowed to teach again. It didn't matter though the damage was done.
I remember the doctor who I had been seeing for the blue feelings I kept having even long before that day as he stood there trying to explain that the episode as he put it, had brought out my inner problems. The diagnosis of Manic Depression would come in the next few weeks as they tried to get me to move on.

No matter what I just could not get out of the sad deep dark hole I had crawled in to. For the, most part I have fought with that darkness every day since.
Manic Depression really big words for a five year to try and cope with. But as I took the lithium every morning.

Sitting on the cabinet as Mama would crush the little pill in a spoon, because I was horrified I would choke to death and die. Then, my days would consist of someone making me leave the house and go to school. At first, they would walk with us and go back home. I would stay for a few minutes then at the first chance I could get away without the teacher seeing me I ran home.
A few times of that and now Daddy began to drive me. It was horrible and I know he suffered too. But he would pull the car up to the corner by the school where two teachers met him. They would grab me by the arms and hold me as he sped away. I would scream, cry, beg and if they let I would run.
So with my flee instincts really strong I wasn't usually allowed outside during recess. I had to stay inside where someone could keep an eye on me.
Those were my days. But it was the night that was the worst. My heart would beat so loud it felt like you could hear it miles away. I would hyperventilate until I passed out and sit hidden in the darkness of the closet.

Those were the days of my life as I sank deeper within the dark world of my soul. The days when I became personal friends with panic attacks.
Five years old is supposed to be a time of happiness and laughter while you played. For me it was a learning period. Learning to hide what was going on inside of me.
My parents didn't understand, which they can't be blamed for. Mama just knew she had done something wrong and even though she never formed the words to me, I felt like she believed I wasn;t a good girl. Because if I was God would have answered her prayers and helped me.
It has been a long journey for me. One that I wouldn't wish on anyone. There are such highs for me and lows just as far down as the high was up.

Happy Mother's Day, My Mama Chose Me

Mother's Day.  Happy Mother's Day to all those who are able to hug their Moms and extra hugs to those who only have memories.

Happy Mother's Day to all those who celebrate alone.

Living life, for me, has always been a difficult task. I know that as a kid it was hard for Mama to deal with my problems because the world really didn't understand them. And both Mama and Daddy had absolutely no real knowledge on how to properly deal with my Bipolar disorder. They didn't have Google to look up the details, and the World Books didn't talk about it. Still, they endured and did the best they could.

So what it must have been for them to not really be able to 'band-aid' my problems away I have no idea. And I can't imagine what my Dad must have felt when he was forced to push me from the car into the arms of teachers so I would stay. Or how Mama felt as I cried for no reason and didn't have the vocabulary to explain what I felt.

No, I have no idea what it was like to be my Mama. I just know she tried. She hugged me, she made me laugh, she went fishing with me, and she never minded when we turned her house upside down. She drank her coffee, crocheted, sewed, and watched her stories while the world of play went around her feet.

She cooked supper while we pulled the pans out of the cabinet and climbed inside, she just stepped over us. She wasn't perfect, no one is. But she was my Mama, and I will alway miss her. I will always love her. Not a day goes by that I don't shed a tear that she isn't here to see Cole grow up, to see her great-grandkids grow into young women, and to share every moment of my life. I miss her so much, and I know that pain will always be a part of me.

What was her secret? I don't know. But I know she chose to have me even when it was a decision. My Mama had cancer. She found out when she was around 4 months pregnant with me, they wanted her to abort me and have surgery to remove the Cancer. Her reply was a simple No. Instead, she waited until I was 2 so I would always have the experience of having a mother as a baby. How many women would do that now? How many would choose their child over their own life? Would you?


Happy Mother's Day Mama you might not be here, but you are inside of me. You are inside my kids, and you are in my memories. You are in every moment of every day as I go through life and I will never forget and never stop loving you. Thank you, Mama, for choosing me and being the woman you were.

Who Am I? Bipolar Suffers Deep Dark Depression Excessive Misery, Gloom Despair and Me

My life dealing with Bipolar Disorder has been a jumble of sleepless nights, and both ends of the spectrum of emotions. My ups are as high as they can go and my lows so far down past the point that the average person has ever seen.

My morning began, well began long before the sun rose. If I want to be technical my night and day all merged into one. The air was crisp and the night beautiful, but I just was not in a place to enjoy any part of it.

How can I explain what it feels like inside my head?
Imagine if nothing but angry butterflies filled your head. That may seem ridiculous, but the mental illness of bipolar disorder can feel as if it sends your mind spinning out of control.

The thoughts that float around inside my brain go from having no context to being so deep. Imagine that your body and soul is like a line of dominos situated waiting to fall at just a slight flick of a finger. That is what I feel right now.

It is hard to breathe, hard to swallow. Bipolar Disorder is my life. It is who I am, and it can make life difficult.

The feelings that swarm can feel like a vise is squeezing so tight my ribs might crush. The pounding in my head seems like a million little villagers echoing the arrival of an enemy. Pounding, pounding. Drums that never stop, only get louder.

My arms and hands are numb, tingling. It makes the simple act of typing this blog a tough task. I can't think straight; I can't focus on things. All of that is how I feel today; it is just a day in the life of me. My Bipolar world.

Being Bipolar is such a rollercoaster of emotions that the days like today that go down so fast are some of the most difficult times I experience.

Dealing with the pain that comes from everywhere and nowhere at the same time makes me feel strange. Even those around me that deal with my moments of darkness and quiet solitude have a difficult time. It is not easy to deal with me.

I know they suffer from the desire to make me 'better'. It is just my reality. Sure, it is not perfect, but what part of life is perfection?

Everyone always wants to do something to make it stop, and everyone spends a lot of time saying 'I'm Sorry.' When the real truth is that it is no one's fault it is nothing anyone has done; it is nothing that I have done. It merely just one of the days of my life.

All I want to do is find somewhere dark, wrap in a warm blanket, cry myself into oblivion, and just sit. Depression is that way. Even when you have nothing to be depressed about, that is the actual existence for the Bipolar.

I try to always remind myself 'this too will pass'.Those little words are a mantra in my mind as I know the sadness I feel will cease, eventually.

Life's Little Ups and Downs Like a Merry Go Round Yet Mine is More Rollercoaster

Life has it's little ups and downs like ponies on a merry go round. ---- Ricky Van Shelton

That may be true, but mine definitely doesn't go round, and round it spins wildly in all directions.
Lately, it feels as if the lows are the only thing. This gives me the feeling of darkness that at times is overwhelming. But, as for the world, I keep the darkness to myself. When we have trials, we hide that, never letting anyone know anything.
I will never post to the world that there are financial strains in my life. I will never post to the world that I am ill. For me, those things are something you keep to yourself.
Even, though I see every day where people are airing their entire lives to the rest of the world. That is not me. Sure, I can hear everyone as they read my blog, say that I air everything. But I really don't. I keep all of that hidden away, this blog is my way of explaining what it feels like to live with bipolar disorder and what it is to deal with head injury in a family.


My life has been a rollercoaster of astronomical proportions. I have had ups so high it will give you a nosebleed and lows so low if I were still that little girl in the '60s I would have found China.

That is just how it is when you live with bipolar disorder. But my life hasn't stopped there I have endured the aftermath of my husband's head injury which takes a person on such a ride all by itself.
Funny when we were dealing with his injury at one point we ended up in a therapist's office. (Not that therapy was a new thing for me.) Anyway as we talked about what was going on, Lynn's doctor insisted we see the therapist because she thought he was suicidal, and that I was too close to the current situation to know better.


So then we sat in the office of an excellent therapist and spent hours talking. After we had discussed everything, the man very calmly looked at Lynn and spoke. "You are not depressed, and honestly you are handling your situation very well. However, your wife has problems, and I could make a career in helping her."

That has been my life. I have been in many positions like that. When I began having heart trouble I went to many; many doctors had every test possible. Spent hours, weeks, months hooked up to monitors. Eventually, I sat in the teaching center for the heart in St. Louis. Laying back on the examination table hooked to yet another machine. I had experienced so many it was old hat to me by now.

Good thing it was because you truly aren't a person in situations like this. Because here I sat with wires connected to me, my hospital gown spread wide open for God and everybody to see EVERYTHING. That was when I looked out the window to see I was situated straight across from the train station and it was CROWDED!!!! So my modesty aside I just waved at everyone. I mean what else could I do, try to hide. They had already witnessed all my glory so what was the use.

The end of my visit there resulted in: "We know you are sick, we are aware you are having these episodes. We just don't know why." Then they went on to tell me to go home and "live stress-free."

Seriously, Stress-free? How in the world was I supposed to do that? I had two small kids, a husband with a head injury and then just life in general. I mean I am bipolar how stress-free can that be?

So world, you can see that my rollercoaster has had so many ups and downs.

Who Am I? Spring has Sprung

Spring is one of my favorite times of the year. All the flowers are popping their little heads up and showing such bright, beautiful smiling faces to the world so tired after a long winter.

Easter lilies blooming makes me think of MamEaster lilies blooming makes me think of Mama and when I see the first tulips open up and I remember the Easter Sunday my family celebrated at Uncle Floyd's farm down at Lanton.


It was a glorious spring day the sun was shining, and we were all gathered together having a beautiful day. Then I followed a cousin to the tulips. Following my cousin to the beautiful flowers would prove to be a bad mistake. But we were little kids. Lisa said let's pick 'em. It's okay she said cause Aunt Hazel was her grandma, so it had to be okay. Right?

Well, Daddy didn't see it that way. Boy, was he mad? I had to apologize and then so I wouldn't forget what I had done, they insisted that every picture had to include the tulips. He told me that way I would remember and not pick someone else' flowers without permission again. Boy, it worked on me, Still, couldn't bring myself to pick someone's flowers today.

But what can I say, I love the beginning of each season the crisp, fresh air of fall mixed with the beautiful colors of the trees. Then, as fall has ended in rushes the snow that I totally adore and then we have summer with the warmth that wraps you like a blanket in its arms.

Today I will just concentrate on the beauty of the new growth that fills the trees and the flowers which are poking up to greet me with a vibrancy that is truly magical.

These are all things that being bipolar has caused me to learn to focus on. When my mind stays on point with something even as trivial as the blooming of a tiny flower it makes handling the complexities of life far easier. I have my methods of handling this thing that I was born with, and I hope that others who face the same trials can learn this little trick as well.

Who Am I? A Child That Grew Up In the 60's in an Ozarks Small Town

Growing up in the 60’s was something out of a movie. It was more “Leave it to Beaver” than anything. But then my life took an outside corner. I was diagnosed “manic depressive” at five years of age. Diagnosed at a time when the term bi-polar was not a common name. This diagnosis came into my life long before it was popular to be bipolar.

It most definitely was not popular, and to some degree, I think my parents were embarrassed that I wasn’t perfect. As they put “like my brother.” But it would become part of me, and I would have to come to terms with that.

How do you come to terms with something like this when you are only 5? All I knew for sure was I was told not to say anything to anyone about it, and they wanted me to “get over it” so I could move on.

Obviously, I did not nor could I just get over it. Bipolar is who I am.

Hiding this within me became second nature. Still, I remember the nights of fear when I would have manic episodes and no one to help me through them. I am not condemning my parents, this was a strange thing, and they had no idea what to do. They both were of the period when you got over your ‘illnesses, ’ and they only wanted for me to move on.

Those dark nights when I could hear my heart beat so loud, it felt as if the entire world could hear the pounding that I heard. It was a severe pounding, and I felt as if I would die if I closed my eyes. So night after night when that pounding began and I feared not just death, but absolutely everything, all I could think was that I was not normal.

Not feeling healthy is a horrible thing for a child. And my greatest wish was not to be a problem to my parents.

The mania ran all over me at times. Even to the point, I would get my school pictures, and as the whole class exchanged photos, I would participate only to run around later begging for them back.
It was a tough time living a life that I didn’t understand and having no one to explain anything to me.

I only desired to “get over it, ” and it felt as if it got worse every day. I would be many years before I understood anything.

I hope you will go on this journey with me as I describe what it was like to be bipolar long before anyone talked about it. Hopefully, my story will help at least one person to realize they are not alone.

So welcome, to this story of me. I am BIPOLAR, and I am not ashamed.

Who am I? Panic Attacks, Pain, and Seclusion a Bipolar Moment

Who am I? Well, today I am a bipolar woman who has had a rough month or so. I am just now feeling like I am once again part of the human race. Honestly, I don't know where my mind has been for the last month or so, it has had a mind of its own.

Life is not comfortable, no matter who you are, or what you comes your way. That's just the sad, cold truth of things. But when you deal with Bipolar Disorder on top of what life throws at you, well it can be more of an uphill struggle.

This last month or so, I have had panic attack after panic attack. The episodes have been so bad that for a significant part of the time I have had to use oxygen to help me even breathe. It feels like I can't catch my breath and that makes my heart work even harder. To top off my existence, I have an arrhythmia (Afib) issue accelerated when one of these attacks strikes.

I have kept as secluded as possible during this mentally difficult time, and I am just now feeling like I can join the world to some degree. Sure, I am not the most social person in the world. I would rather stay away from the hustle and bustle that the rest of the society calls life, I like the peace and quiet of solitude. I am the luckiest woman in the world to have a little family that understands I am better off away from crowds.

It is not fun. As a small child, I can remember sitting in the corner of my bed or even hidden in the back of my closet as one would grab me. I felt as if I were dying because I had no idea what was happening. At times I would sit with my hand on my heart wondering if I was dead. It was terrifying, to say the least.

Imagine as a child that your heart is beating so fast you feel like you will pass out and you have no idea what to do. Imagine that everyone tells you that it is in your head. They keep telling you to stop being dramatic. But this is not something that I want to do; it is not something I can make myself no do. The reality of panic attacks and Afib episodes are what life is like for me.

So, here I sit once again needing the oxygen machine to help me calm my racing heart and ease my shortness of breath. Why does this happen? I honestly wish I knew, the only thing I am sure of lies in the fact that it does happen.