Why?

Lately I’ve been asking myself this question. Why do I keep doing this? What’s the point? Everyone and their dog has a bloody blog now, and most of us don’t have much of anything to say, beyond what we ate last night, and how much we loved some movie, record, tv show or sex act.

I believe I have something to add to the conversation in my computer.

When I had my first “surprise!” daughter in 2003, my world flipped upside over. Everything shifted, moved to the left a little bit. I had a brief encounter with post partum depression, and became very passionate about the empowerment of the birth process. I began to see myself as a woman, and I liked it.

Then came another “surprise!” (I know, I know-we DO know better). I wanted an abortion. Due to circumstance, and that fear that I’d somehow ruin my chances of getting pregnant again, we continued with the pregnancy.

After the birth of my second daughter, I wanted to die, and kill her as well. Not only was a depressed, I was suicidal, and homicidal. My family was scared, for me, and for themselves. The black pit of post partum descended again, and from what I can tell, came very close to full psychosis.

Long story short, I got better. I was recently diagnosed as bipolar type II, and medicated with something that works. I’ve been in therapy for the last year or so to help. But more than anything, sharing my story, trying to help other women, has kept me afloat, and kept me writing.

Prior to all this, I was sexually abused by a neighbour and a relative at a young age, my adoptive mother died when I was 11 of breast cancer, my father descended into alcoholism, I left home at 16, met my biological family at 19, married at 20…

and finally, have settled into something resembling peace and quiet. No more drama. Unless you count mmy oldest daughter 3 year old.

I’ve found my peace with life, with my life, and I want to share it because I would have loved to have known the me I am today through all of those bad times.

Edited: Aug 15, 2007

This site also serves as my landing ground for the multitude of issues surrounding having bipolar disorder. I am sick. I will always be sick. This is a hard nut to swallow, especially the part about always needing to take pills. I don’t want to be crazy. But I am. And now I am learning to deal with this part of me, and coming to terms with the fact that some of my desires, and wants, just won’t happen because of my illness.

Sucks really. But hey, that’s why I’m here after all. To share my suckiness.