Portrait of a Beautiful Bipolar Child

This is Cait.

In Every Family, There's Always One

You hear about them.  The kids that paint with their own poop... Drink from the bottle of bleach... Stick beans up their nose...  Redecorate their bedroom walls with permanent marker.  Each time you hear these stories you get a good laugh, compare your kid and thank your lucky stars your angel has never been that bad.  But lets be honest, all kids have their moments to shine.  We all have our "OM'GOD" parenting tales.  And the more kids you have, the better the odds that your family has to... well... Shine.

Happy June 19th!!!

Once every 6 years or so, Daddy's Day lands on June 19th.  When it does, we experience... Daddy/Caiti Day!!    Cait turned 9 today and had to share her day with Dad.   You would think this would mean the 2 of them would do something special together, but... nope.  They are doin' their own thing today.  Currenlty, Cait is watching her new Cars DVD on blu-ray and Dad took a trip to Fry's Electronics and then to get his hair cut.  Both happy, which is good.  I'm too tired from yesterday's birthday party for both Cait and her baby sister Libby.  I am spent.

June sucks, but it's filled with love. ;0)

"I have two pants on!"

The other night, my eldest daughter came in to us because she had a nightmare.  As usual, she couldn't remember what it was about, but she was visually shaken.  And shirtless.   When I asked her why she didn't have a shirt on, she couldn't really answer. She had no idea.  It wasn't a particularly warm night, but she has been known to tunnel under all her blankets and overheat.  So, we did a quick search for her top in and around her bed with no luck.  Desperate to get back to sleep (both girls had night issues and I was beyond tired!), I gave up and got her another shirt and helped her back in bed.

The next morning, we were in the kitchen making breakfast when she looked down and exclaimed "I have two pants on!"  When I asked her why, she responded "I don't know."  Immediately, I knew what had happened and headed for her closet.   Sure enough, in her hamper, was her shirt.  On the floor was 2 more jammie shirts.  When I called her in there and pointed it out, she seemed a bit confused.  "I didn't do that." 

"Ya, I believe you did hun.  I think you were sleep walking."
"I didn't do that!"
"Well, I didn't put 2 pairs of pants on you in the middle of the night."
"Oh, ya.   But I didn't put my shirt in there."
"Ya, I think you did."

This was the first time in my daughters life she was utterly speachess.  I wish I hadn't been worried and trying to hide so I could have enjoyed the moment.  I explained what sleep walking was and how her older brother in Nevada does it form time to time.  That seemed to help, but she still seemed a bit freaked out about it.  (I was too, to be honest.)  While she was at school, she worked through it in her own way.  She talked to her classmates.   When I picked her up, she came running to me yelling "Maurice does it too!"

"Does what?"
"Sleep walks!"
"He does?  You told Maurice?"
"Ya!  I told him how I woke up in two pants and how took my shirt off with out knowing it because I slept walked.  He said he sleep walks all the time too.  He's slept walked to the bathroom before!"
"He did?  Wow.  So you feel better about it now?"
"Yup."
"Cool."
"I just hope I don't walk up with two pants on again."

Me too.  


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To the few regular readers I have and the many lurkers:

Happy Valentine's Day!

I'm Coming Out!

You read that right. I'm coming out. I am joining the movement. I have been out for the most part, but now it is time to jump out and slam the door shut behind me!

I am Tracey and I am Bipolar.

I flinch when I say that out loud because those who hear me tend to jump to their own conclusions as to what that means. Some assume it means I'm insane, schizo, psychotic, dangerous... even contagious. Some become "sympathetic" and treat me like I'm either fragile or special needs. I have even come across those who act as if I am full of crap, doing it for attention or just a bored SAHM riding the diagnosis of the month. They assume this not because of my actions or rumors to my past. No, they based them solely on the heinous stigma that surrounds mental illness as a whole. A stigma I have battled against for the better part of my life. For this reason alone, I have kept "in the closet" about this very important part of myself.

But no longer.

I was diagnosed at 19. My story neither begins there, nor ends. But it almost did.

I had already figured out I was Bipolar. Not by a treatment center or a doctor or even an online search (such things were unheard of for the most part back then). It was in my first year of Jr. College. I had just stormed out of my Intro to Business class because I arrived too late to take a test and I completely lost it. I was directed to speak with my college counselor who just happened to run a "Bipolar/Unipolar" support group on campus. I attended one meeting and immediately knew the answer to the question I didn't even realize I had been asking myself for years.

"Why am I so damn different?"

Finding out the answer was an indescribable moment in my life that I will never forget. It was right up there with losing my virginity.... strike that. Better. However, knowing wasn't enough to save me from the self destructive ticking time bomb that had already been set to go off deep within. I attempted suicide twice before I was hospitalized, put on meds and then... finally... diagnosed.

Looking back at my childhood, I can see things that should have been obvious signs. Two things kept my family from properly seeing them. One: Most of them were Bipolar. Two: None of them knew it!! Yep. I was the first of my family to be diagnosed. Unfortunately, the diagnosis came too late for 2 of my relatives who were too far gone and sadly, took their own lives. (Although, in both cases, whether it was an accident or by their own choice is still up for debate by some.)

Those same things I saw in myself as a child, I now see in my daughter. At first, it scared me. Then I realized it didn't have to be scary! Sure it was scary for ME! I was CLUELESS!! She doesn't need to be! It took me years to figure it all out because I had to do it all on my own in a time when people were still being locked away for months even years! Just NOW, they are starting to recognize Bipolar Disorder as a pediatric issue. They are realizing that not all those bouncy kids are suffering from ADHD. Some are Bipolar. Treatments are changing. For the better.

With all this change, shouldn't the stigma change too?

All mental illnesses are REAL ILLNESSES. REAL DISORDERS. They are NOT however, defining.

I struggle with my illness. I live my life in spite of my illness. In order to do so, I embrace my illness.

I am Tracey. I am Bipolar. I am also a daughter, a sister and spouse. I am doting mother and aunt. I am a teacher, a caregiver, an entrepreneur and a bookkeeper. I am creative and open minded. I am supportive and caring. I am funny. I am loving. I am fun loving and wise. I'm a singer and a dancer. I am a jokester and silly. I'm encouraging and courageous. Above all, I am hopeful and sincere.

If you have been hiding, I ask that you join me and come out. Like I said, it's a movement. Well actually, its a campaign. Started by this guy: Michael Kimber.  He's also on FaceBook.  I learned of Michael and his Coming Out of the Crazy Closet Campaign, through Jenny the Bloggess.  She too "Came Out" recently on her blog and asked others "Speak Up!"

So please.  Join us.  Come out.  Speak up.  Help us fight the stigma that has held us captive in our silence for far too long.

You are not alone.

Wordless Wednesday... and a few words

Ahhh... to be able to pass out when ever. Where ever.

Wordless Wednesday... and a few words

My first time knitting a hat. The color is called Grape Jelly. Yummy!

Iz Gots a Smart Cookie!

Warning. I'm gonna braaaaag. BIG TIME! I hate to be one of those parents.... but I am. For this next post anyway.



Today was the CST awards ceremony at my daughter's school. (CST = California Standards Test). In order to better explain what she recieved and why, I need to explain a few things about CST's scoring. Scores fall into the following categories: Advanced, Proficient, Basic, Below Basic, & Far Below Basic. The test is divided into 2 subjects: Mathematics & Language Arts (atleast in the 3rd & 4th grades anyway). Each subject has 6 small tests. The percentage of right answers for each individual test is added up to give the overall scores for each subject and range from 150 (rock bottom in Far Below Basic) to a perfect score of 600 (top score in Advanced). Because the two subjects are tallied seperately, it is possible to be in two different categories (ie: Basic/Proficient).

That been said, today the 3rd & 4th graders received awards based on their categories and other achievements. First, they called up those who recieved Proficient in one of the categories and 5 happy kiddos recieved certificates. Then, they called up those who recieved Proficient on both subjects and they recieved a certs; 7 or 8 kiddos. (My daughter's autistic friend from kinder was called up for the double pro certs and we were estatic for her!!) Then, 10 or so more kids were called up for certs because they recieved Advanced on one subject. I was SURE Cait would be in this group and I got a bit worried when she didn't get called. That left Advanced/Advanced. And she was called up... along with close to 30 other kiddos!! DAAANG!!! AND, they not only did they get their 2 certs, they recieved little wooden plaques as well.

*warm fuzzy feeling and a flood of tears* I was so proud!

Two more sets of awards were given out. 5 kids recieved trophies for scoring perfect scores in both subjects! Outstanding! And one boy recieved two trophies for being the most improved in both subjects since the previous year. He was so stoked! I'm sure his parents were too.

Tonight, I treated my smart little cookie to an afternoon on the town. We had ourselves some tall drinks at the Jamba Juice and then some serious petty damage at the Sanrio shop! WE know how to throw down, yo! '0)

My Baby Says "Mama!"

There's nothing sweeter than hearing your child utter her first word. However, hearing it when she's only 2 1/2 months old, causes nothing but dismissal and denial. For the past month or so, my little cutie has been smiling, cooing, almost laughing and ... saying "Mama."

At first, I dismissed it as just babble. Then others started to point out when she would say it.

"No. It just sounds like it. It's just noises and cooing."

My neighbors agree, she was definitely saying "Mama." I said they were nuts.

It wasn't until one day when I was helping my older 2 clean their room, my baby girl started fussing. I started to rush through pick up so I could declare their room clean before I dealt with the dirty diaper, snotty nose, slobber and up spit I foresaw coming my way.

"MAMA!!"

Again, I dismissed it as possible and continued to fling toys into bins at neck breaking speed and deadly accuracy! But then, I received the ultimate confirmation...

"Mom. Libby just said "MAMA!"

Thank you son. I believe you're right. :'0)

That all been said and gushed over, she only says it when she's upset. To her, its a noise that brings me running and all the care she needs. I know she isn't actually associating me with the term "Mama." (That's me safely staying in the world of dismissal and denial... just in case it disappears tomorrow.)

Happy to Hear. Hard to Bare.

I never thought I would be so happy to have any of my children official diagnosed with anything. However, when it seemed my first born was following in the long tradition of suffering from the "family curse," I felt the need to get it documented as soon as possible. Better heads up for the school, for one. Easier for the rest of the family to understand and accept, for another. The biggest reason? So she could begin to accept it, learn to live with it, adapt around it, and grow successfully inspite of it.



I knew having children brought on the gamble of passing it on. But it's not all bad. Many very iconic individuals had the same thing. Difference being, we live in a time where more is known about it, less of a stigma surrounds it, and most importantly, she'll know early on. That's something none of them had... a head start.



She'll be ok.





Right?

{This Moment}

From Soulemama via Not Blessed Mama:

"A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see."

Ok, so I'm late a day this week. oops.

Sometimes Love is Sweet, but Hard to Swallow

Yesterday morning, my 8 year old daughter surprised me with breakfast in bed:

Looks good, doesn't it?

That's 4 lightly toasted (aka still somewhat cold) blueberry toaster waffles each topped with a patchy layer of either peanut butter or Nutella and lightly drizzled over with maple syrup. (I added more before this pic was taken.) It was lovingly served on a paper plate and a plastic spork still in the plastic wrap (switched out for a real fork before pic was taken.)

Her reason? It was "Happy People Who Love Cats" day.

Isn't she sweet! And oh so pretty. My adorable little tree hugger.

Let's not share with her how "not so green" the plate and spork were. Or just how many glasses of milk mama needed to finish her breakfast. (3 tall frothy glasses & a cup of coffee!) We'll just keep those secrets to ourselves for now. Some day, I'll share this story with her as I beam over the pictures with pride and a warm feeling in my heart. Reminds me of the time I baked my dad a green grape pie, which he too ate every bite of. Ahhh, memories. '0)

Yup. Sometimes love is sweet, but hard to swallow.