Bipolar Sucks, But Does My Parenting Also Have To?
I've got bipolar, type 2 to be specific. I don't add that last part to diminish my experience, by the way. Honesty and clarity drove me to do it because I'd hate to seemingly make myself into a spokesman for bipolar when only truly knowing a part of it. So I come out as Type 2 BiPo from the off so that we all know that I'm just a dude talking about one dude's experience.
A rather limited experience, technically. I've only had the label attached to me for less than two years. Prior to that I just thought I was an arsehole sometimes. And maybe I was. In fact, I know I was. However, in my defence, I was undiagnosed. Insert wink emoji here.
I'm also a parent to four kids; one of whom has multiple illnesses, both physical and invisible mental health ones. Their ages range from 14 to almost 2, and they're all brilliant. I'm quite hard on them at times, but not by choice. It just comes out from time to time, an urge to be mean and demand silence/respect.
I happened to grow up at the quiet end of so-called "tough love" you see. Heavy on the tough, and so light on the love you'd think it caused high cholesterol. I never got beats, but I knew what angry smacks felt like, and what I truly feared was Mum's acid tongue. She once angrily told me that the reason she never went to college is that I was born. I carried that guilt for a long time, and it shaped me as a person. I'd go so far as to say it had an even more profound effect on me than the smear of Original Sin and the promise of Eternal Damnation thrown around by Father John from The Oratory.
I don't mean to cast my mum as Cruella de Vil, or Yzma from The Emperor's New Groove, even if they do both bear some slight resemblance to her. I loved her - and I suppose I still do - with every bit of my tiny heart. It was just us for so long, but I can't paint it as a bright, happy picture because it wasn't. I was lonely in her presence, and I learned pretty quickly that it was easier to keep my mouth shut more often than not.
Teenager Danny was a new beast. Gone was the nerdy introvert that played alone, and in his place stood Mr. Confident and Cool. Suddenly I didn't care about things that I had once liked and enjoyed, and my previously-impeccable manners were replaced by swear words, alcohol, and drugs. My friends' opinions were on the highest pedestal, and everyone else was insignificant in my point of view. I told you, I was an arsehole.
That's when things with my mum really broke. She wasn't going to stop being hard, emotionless, and distant, but now I had an edge to me, an attitude. I told her how I felt about her, and how I hated the way she'd treated me. She doubled down on being distant and closed-off. I got kicked out for letting my emotions take over and behaving in the wrong way. I let a whole plate of dinner fall to the floor. The smashes were satisfying and empowering. That was her plate, not mine. Plus I'd already eaten with the mandem, fuck her dinner.
Insightful, even for me to write it down. It is so easy to hide from our own misdeeds and mistakes, but that is exactly the thing I grew up feeling was unfair about my mum. She never held herself accountable but pointed out even the smallest mistake made by me. In fact, my mum would completely shut down the conversation and possibly become nasty when she may have been expected to apologise.
What's the point? Well, I've had to wait to be in therapy to get these things brought to light. Once out in the open after being buried for years, these things needed to be processed. That took time and was difficult. Even during "peace times" I felt like I didn't have a mother. If we happened to not be talking, then I would definitely not be able to watch Annie without having a breakdown, because I'd have been convinced I was an orphan, too.
What's that? What about my dad? Well, considering he only came into my life when I was almost eleven, and then spent the rest of the time popping in and out of it as if he was a left foot in the Hokey-Cokey. Let's just say he has never been and will likely never be a pillar of support for me. Quite the opposite; he is more akin to the mould and rot that would one day bring a pillar down, given time and opportunity. Hence, I changed my number and deleted his.
Safe to say I wasn't exactly equipped to be a parent. That little nugget of truth didn't become apparent until I'd already become a parent, and deep into it. Years in and out of therapy have brought me to the point where I'm trying to figure out how to be the parent I needed while being the parent that my four kids need. Why don't you emulate the feeling? Perhaps you could fly a helicopter whilst learning how to do so? Or you could become a wild animal handler before ever educating or preparing yourself to do so. Same thing.
I've grown with them, but they deserved for me to be grown for them before they came along. I can't blame society for the fact that my mum and dad were who they were, but I can blame myself for creating dependants before I had thought about the consequences for them. I can also blame myself for not having control of my mental health before becoming a dad, but there is also a little more to it than that, isn't there?
Bipolar can be extremely difficult to diagnose, especially when patients are not honest with their doctors, such as in my case. I used to hide the scarier aspects of my condition because I was afraid that I'd get locked away in a loony bin. Maybe that had something to do with gaslighting and threats in my childhood, or maybe it was to do with TV and movies. Either way, the result was the same: a delayed diagnosis for Danny.
I couldn't truly start to get a hold on my mood disorder without first knowing or accepting that I had a mood disorder. It's like not calling the fire brigade and letting your house burn, waiting for it to just go out. It's not going to, and if it does, everything is still going to be burned to shit.
Some bits of parenting advice I've written to myself in a notebook comes to mind. Here they are, for anybody who may find them helpful at all:
Be honest with yourself, even when it is hard to do so.
A moment or two of being an uncomfortable adult is nothing compared to a lifetime of confusion for your kids.
Be kind, even when angry. No, especially when angry.
Don't let anger become normality.
Give out hugs, and say "I Love You" OUT LOUD.
Show forgiveness and be fair.
Have fun with it. They'll remember the fun.
Become okay with your past in order to live a better now, and to open up brighter, happier futures. For you and for all of those people you love the most. More than ever, it is important to raise level-headed, emotionally intelligent, open-minded children in order to ensure the leaders of tomorrow are better for all of us.
Fiction and Poetry
Written by Danny Walsh
Comedian, Chef, Writer, Bipolar Survivor, and Dad of four, Danny Walsh is multi-talented and still eager to learn something new every day. Aware of his flaws and happy to laugh about them.