What’s Stability Anyway?

In all of 12 years on the American workforce, how is it that I have NEVER been able to respectably hold down a full-time (40+ hours/wk) job?

Salaried employee? Fuhgettaboutit!

Other than that one year I spent active duty, I don’t ever recall a year that I earned anywhere near 20k gross income.

Does this mean that at year 28 I have successfully managed to be a total failure?

Will having that full time, career level, benefits paying, 401k matching, 8:30a-5p, salaried position really offer me the stability that I crave?

I sit on my porch every morning and contemplate my life.

I ask myself what is it that I am seeking. I ponder what milestones I must reach and what needs be met in order to find contentment. I long for stability. I want most to be secure. I imagine what it must feel like to not exist in a body that rejects everything about its humanness. To have a mind that isn’t ill.

Lately I have been in heavy contemplation of what it really means to be stable.

Actually through this intense brooding, I realized that I was asking myself the wrong question.

What it means to be stable is relative to the individual seeking to define it.

Alas! I found myself asking what stability means to me?

Is it not going through the highs and lows of bipolar disorder?

Is it being cured from chronic seasonal depression that threatens to end me every winter?

Does it look like not panting and dissociating during highly stressful workplace situations?

Or does it look like finally securing that career of my dreams?

Do I get health insurance and retirement benefits?

Paid vacation and all government observed holidays?

How about protection under the ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act)?

Will I require that I acquire veteran status and receipt of veteran’s benefits?

Or maybe I will finally purchase a car from a dealership for $0 down and $299.99/month all on my own and drive it off the lot with ZERO miles on the odometer.

Gas money?

Do I even want to be a homeowner?

Does this intangible ideal I crave so ferociously look like the aforementioned?

What if it does not look like anything? Perchance it is a feeling.

I am a person who deals very heavily in feelings and emotion. At first I sought to ask myself the right questions. Then, almost at once, I’d conceded that perhaps just as the “right questions” evade me maybe along with them goes the “right answers”.

From this side of the journey, I cannot describe in mere words what stability should look like. I won’t know until I get there. One thing I predict is that I will know with sureness when I have received my ‘right’ answer because I will FEEL it.

-Dannie-

 

Like the Cool Kids

Six months ago I tried something brand new.

Foreign if you will.

I moved to South Korea.

I became an expatriate, English-teaching, E2 visa-holding resident of the Republic of Korea.

Five months ago I tried something different.

I shaved-off approximately 50 percent of the hair on my head.

I left the top to grow wildly like weeds in the height of spring. Though I hid it under wigs and things for several weeks thereafter.

It was a counter-attack to the first signs of another seasonal depression on the horizon.

Four months ago I bought a ticket to Thailand.

My first international trip of the leisurely kind to a different foreign country.

I shared my excitement on social media.

One of my Facebook pals even called me a “fancy b!#ch” for it.

Three months ago I fought fiercely.

I saw it coming and despite my hurricanesque readiness, it did not change its course.

No amount of preparation can deflect the inevitable. I became reclusive.

But I refused to go down without a fight.

Two months ago I packed my bags.

I was on my way to sunny shores and sandy beaches.

Fun in the sun until I was accosted by a gastrointestinal ‘situation‘.

Nevertheless, my trip served as a respectable attempt to thwart the darkness. I took some pretty awesome pics and even got a tattoo (another random drastic alteration of my appearance to combat a mood-related crisis)!

One month ago I began to care less and less.

But I couldn’t just give in.

Two weeks ago…

Under the pressure of an untreated bout of depression, I decided to adorn the “idgaf” armor and simply take it one day at a time.

No stressing about my future allowed.

No pre-planning what a “proper” adult routine should look like upon my return to the states.

No worries about student loans and how to pay rent in a place I don’t even live yet.

I threw caution to the wind.

No frustrations wasted over the things I cannot change at work.

I started dressing less conventional and tossed aside the wigs and things that I used to hide the haircut from month-two.

I even “came out” all over again.

And with that, I made the proud proclamation accompanied by an even stronger determination to find my truest self and show him and her to the world.

Yes I said him AND her. That wasn’t a typo.

There is more to me than seeing what you may mistakenly believe you will get.

I am the embodiment of freshly cultivated masculinity and inherently sensual, sometimes calculating–though not out of malice, femininity.

Who says I cannot be a king and a queen!? A lady and a boss.

I am more than what meets the eye.

Before you can walk in your truth, you must first own it.
After you do that, everyone else will have no choice but to follow suit.
I’m willing to bet that they’ll even respect you more because of it.

What’s strange to me is how the new people in my life are under the impression that I totally have my shit together.

I was an assuming wallflower with a great sense of humor and kindhearted personality if you got to know me. To most of the neighborhood [predominately male] kids I was a tomboy, one of the guys. I wasn’t quite the head-turner, double-take commanding, main attraction type. Popular was never a word paired with a statement about me.

While much of the above remains the same, I am now noticing the second glances.

Some people actually look up from their phones when I walk in.

Is this the beginning of something?

But what if I don’t want to be like the cool kids?
…what if I just want to feel free to be me?

no pressure//just ☮
-Dannie-

Her Reply: My Coming Out Story (Pt. 2)

Had our new relationship been built on an insufficient foundation?

Was my approval seeking behavior doomed to return and rule me for the sake of not having to be torn apart from her again?

Would my mother disown all that we have worked on during the recent years of our relationship simply because her beliefs about homosexuality remained unchanged?

I sincerely had no clue, but I knew one thing for sure.

I couldn’t chicken out again…

Welcome to the second half of the ‘long version’.

I humbly recommend reading the first half to truly see the full picture being painted here.

My apologies.

Making a long story short has never been a strong suit of mine.

Ever!

So let’s get right into this. Shall we?

Waiting on my phone to chime was more nerve-racking than waiting on the doctor to arrive in “labor and delivery” and confirm that it was time to push. That was more than  twelve years ago. Yet here I was, two weeks ago, gnawing at my fingernails. I have never anticipated doom in such this way before. It took her more than a day to finally put me out of my misery.

I kind of sorta punked out by coming out via text.
At least I clearly, and as concisely as possible, confirmed something that I am sure my mother had grown suspicious of again as of late.
We had been making small talk (over text) about unrelated things when I gathered the gumption to just say it.
The conversation had abruptly ended right as I shared myself so vulnerably.
The fact that she did not immediately reply only signaled a warning of something disastrous.

What was taking her so long?

As restless as I felt that night, I eventually forced myself to sleep. I had worrisome dreams of my mother completely disowning and dismissing me from her life for good! I was startled awake the next day by my severe anticipation of the worst.

Still nothing!

Oh goodness, gracious. What did this woman have up her sleeve? Was this the silent treatment? Should I take her unresponsiveness as a sign of dismay?

I had to carry on with my day. Upon my arrival to work I tried as best as I could to focus on teaching my students. It was a struggle at first but by the fifth period of the day, I managed to successfully take my mind off of what had been troubling me for nearly 24 hours.

I strolled the usually 10-minute long walk home.
The bitterness of Korea’s winter chill did nothing to motivate me to walk against the wind expeditiously.

Shortly after setting my belongings down, I hesitantly moved to check my phone for her reply.

Still. Nothing?

I was not sure how much more of this I could take, so I made the first move by trying to check on her. I asked my sister if mom had been acting differently over the past day. I inquired as to whether or not she had mentioned anything of what I divulged a day prior. My sister had no answers for me about the situation, other than to say that our mother was doing well and seemed to be her usual self.

Minutes later the chime I (at one point) anxiously awaited sounded off.

Due to the exchange that was happening, I unsuspectedly motioned to swipe the touchscreen believing that it was only my sister texting me some more.

The chiming noise continued.

This was the very thing I feared.

Hearing my phone go off so much almost confirmed that I was justified for fearing the worst. I imagined the several pinging alerts were a result of her fingers typing feverishly to tell me things that my weakening mood may not have been fully prepared to handle.

To my pleasant surprise it was quite the opposite!

After years of self-hatred and -deprecation all for the sake of believing I was unacceptable in her eyes, my mother had done the very thing I have longed for since my age of reckoning.

She accepted ME for who I was.

Nothing more (as in a parent’s expectations of their child) and surely nothing less (failure to meet said expectations).

A huge weight had finally been lifted off of my chest. After decades of burdening me by making a home there.

This is not to say that my mother will start donning rainbow paraphernalia and slap a LGBTA (the ‘a’ representing ally) bumper sticker on her new car. Nevertheless, I feel more confident that she is earnestly trying to show up and be present for me in a way I once could only dare to dream.

She has now become my #1 fan so to speak.
I can say with certainty that she is definitely one of the biggest supporters in all that I do.

Let’s examine recent events:

Upon my sudden break up I, just as suddenly, decided to move upstate.
She supported my decision and even gave me start up money to aid in my relocation.

After the disappointment of realizing that what I spent years in undergrad for was not the glamorous career I had hoped it would be, I decided to abandon everything regarding that field and proclaimed that I would be taking a sabbatical.
She encouraged and prayed for me.

Shortly after the aforementioned proclamation, I went even further to suggest that I would move abroad. More than half-a-day ahead, I set my sights on South Korea.
She was the only person who didn’t ask why. Instead she excitedly told me to go for it!

Most recently, I said I wanted to start a YouTube channel.
Not only did she proudly give me her blessing, she invested in my dream by helping me purchase a high-picture-quality camera as a Christmas gift.

And now this…

While she has made it very clear her stance on the matter of homosexuality in regards to her belief system, she was sure to make it CLEARER that she loves me for who I am and that there’s no getting rid of her in my life.

She relinquished control and advised me that this is my life to live whichever way I choose to live it.

I nearly cried.

Joyful tears of course.

We are not going backward. She and I are only moving forward in our relationship and I am ever grateful.

To imagine that we were ever at such severe odds is becoming more and more a faded memory of the tumultuous past.

Envisioning what the future has in store for us is almost unfathomable. Because staring into anything so bright for too long hurts my eyes.

As cliché as it may sound, I must close with this:

No matter how gloomy the circumstances may be, it does get better.
Therein lies the importance of perseverance and always remaining hopeful.

This is my life. Welcome to my world…                                    ☮peace☮
danie’ ✌

Day 1– Ground Zero

Today was a good day.

Monday is now down for the count!

Four days left until the weekend.

Inspiration struck me late last night.
In an aspiring writer’s world, when this happens it is advisable that you take out the little notepad in the drawer of your nightstand and start scribbling.
But I was so close to being asleep that I opted to make a silent promise to myself instead.

“If I remember this moment in the morning then it was meant to be and I will seriously devote some conscious thought to further developing the idea.”

Wouldn’t you know? The first thing on my mind when I woke up this morning was the brainstorm of inspiration I had as I fell asleep the night before.

The inspiration of what this bright idea could mean for my future was just the positivity I needed to battle the ‘Monday blues’. Nothing could bring me down with a future that looks so promising.

Granted the weather was crappy all weekend (and has now spilled over into the week). It was cold, rainy and gloomy. The atmosphere felt like a complimentary valet service for each and every contagion present during the cold/flu season. My body and head ached. And for some reason I felt especially heartbroken. I have no idea where memories of my estranged spouse decided to come from. But I guess that’s what happens when you allow depression to take its toll on you. Your mind begins to betray you to thoughts that you promised yourself you’d bury forever.

90s and early 2000s R&B and soul were the soundtrack to my stranger than fiction life. With my earbuds in, I allowed myself to retreat from the congested subway station and sulk. Hundreds of people huddled close, with their damp clothing and dripping wet umbrellas failed to interrupt my intense thoughts of mourning.

I mourned the love lost in the devastation of my failed marriage.
I mourned what I thought being normal would mean to me.
I grieved my 20s. For the years I’ve lost to the onset of bipolar depression. For the ideal my mind imagined being a young 20-something year old would look like.

I clutched my coat and struggled with my umbrella as I transferred from the subway to the city bus, and then again once I arrived at my stop and walked home.

I felt the weight of depression resting on my chest as I lay in bed late last night.
I began to panic. I feared it would get too out of hand far too soon. “I don’t think I can handle this on my own.”

I began to think that moving to Korea was a huge mistake.
Then something happened.

I flipped the light switch and crawled into bed.

Engulfed by literal and figurative darkness as I meditated on the life I was grieving and all I’d hope it would be, it happened.

The ah-ha moment!

The lightbulb came on.

In all of its brightness, it lulled me to sleep.

Dreams filled with ambitions of a life no longer ruled by depression, outlandish manic episodes, heartbreak, persistent headaches and chronic widespread joint pain overcame me. I felt encouraged to keep going. I felt reassured that this experience cannot be for naught.

The takeaway from my ah-ha moment:
Once my time here in Korea concludes, I will not return to the U.S. the same person I was when I left. I was not created to be normal. I was fashioned to be especially extraordinary. Why should living my dreams stop with a brief stint abroad?
I am going to start my own business.
No more giving my life away to mediocrity. No more sitting back as a watch my talent go to waste. No more turning a death ear to my gifts BEGGING to be acknowledged and nurtured. No more emotional, psychological masochism. I was slowly committing spiritual suicide. Not anymore!

I am going to be my own boss.

I will build my own brand!

The universe has heard my request.
Now it is only a matter of time before it all comes to fruition.

Don’t ever be too afraid or ashamed to ask the universe to help you make your dreams come true!

P.E.A.C.E                                                                              -this/is/dani’sWorld-

Day 5

I really didn’t want to do this today.

For the past 3 hours I have tried to convince myself that I could fail at this challenge and blame it on my illness. I tried to console my already defeated self with enabling-thoughts that only fuel the strength of the problem I wish to resolve.

It’s supposed to be different this time.

So here I am. Sharing with you. Working on a new blog entry.

I don’t feel as inspired to ramble on about nothing in particular so I will let my daily mood log do the talking.

Without further delay, here it is.

My thoughts when I woke up: uh oh, this doesn’t feel good. What a weird dream. Ok, let’s go. Let’s get up. We have to get moving. You didn’t pick out anything to wear for work. You skipped the shower last night so we HAVE to clean this tush now! What’s for lunch? You didn’t meal-prep so we have to wing it. Maybe we can grab something on ‘hagwon ga’ (that’s the busy street I work on). Whatever we do, we have to move NOW or else we’ll be late. Ugh! I don’t want to do anything today. Can’t we go back to bed?
I still have no idea what happened after that or how I made it to [and through] work.
Sleep: approximately 6-7 hours.
My mood at the start of my day: down and uninterested (not fully depressed but definitely not as wishful and eager to be optimistic as yesterday).
Appetite: irritable bowels were the characteristic feature for today. Food was not my friend. I don’t believe I even had a proper meal.
What I ate today: junk! I tried to figure out food on the way to work. I was unsuccessful. Since I knew I would not make it through the day feeling gloomy, having to work with high energy and often disrespectful little kids while HANGRY [hunger + angry = hangry] I made a poor decision to have fast food. I haven’t had fast food on a regular basis in years and in the past few months it has been nonexistent in my diet. Until today! About halfway through my ‘real chicken’ sandwich the slimy, greasy sight of what I was eating made me nauseous so I trashed it and opted to nibble on a few room temperature fries before finally trashing those too. After work I had a brothy, spicy seafood bowl of noodles with kimchi as a side dish. I thought this would help my sensitive tummy. Again my stomach refused to accept food and as soon as I got home my body eliminated the waste. At least I was able to hold down a single serving of chocolate-chocolate chunk ice cream.
Exercise today: absolutely NONE! If I’m not upright at work, I am at home lying in bed watching YouTube videos and trying to talk myself out of finishing this 7-day challenge.
How I feel right now: not quite like poop but somewhere in the neighborhood of a fart. Today was markedly a downward move from the bit of sanity and serenity I felt yesterday. The best thing I can say I feel right now is proud of myself for getting this blog entry done! I made it!

Can I go to bed now? Where are my YouTube videos????

-welcome to dani’sWorld–
goodnight …peace

Day 6

I made it!

Praise to all things good and pure.
Thanks given to creation of all life and the totality of the universe’s majesty.
I give reverence to the miracle of having a chance in this life, in this body and on this day.

One of the best things about today was waking up with a determination to feel an improvement from the days that are now behind me. I have to give it my all for as long as my all is willing to be given.

On days when I can appreciate it I love to just marvel at the beauty of autumn colors and the crisp chill that warns of much colder night to come. It is such a shame that fall happens to be the onset of my “season of sadness”.

On the other hand, I felt like I had a second wind today.

I cannot slip into depression this early. The fighter in me refuses.

I know what comes in the weeks that lie ahead. I know of the dates that always seem to trigger memories of trauma, severe misfortune and the pain that cuts deep. I reluctantly, yet eagerly, anticipate the time of year when those unresolved traumas excuse the presence of peace and welcome depression like a long awaited visit from family and friends during the holidays.

Oh the holidays.
They are the worst days for me.
The season to be jolly is quickly approaching.
Conversely, it is the season of melancholy for me.

I hope to change that more and more every year going forward.

My thoughts when I woke up: I feel well rested, I can do this, let’s get up and get moving. (I got a pleasant surprise with having my mom message me about sending a care package… we ended up having a quick FaceTime session on my iPhone.)
Sleep: approximately 7 hours
My mood at the start of my day: notably unaffected one way or the other yet slightly wishful.
Appetite: still diminished but with a craving for comfort food later in my day (I went to Dos Tacos for dinner– melted cheesy stuff helps me feel better– and Baskin-Robbins afterward; mmm chocolate, ice cream, yumm)
What I ate today: still no breakfast (I really am not a breakfast or morning person for that matter); for lunch I had a 6-six inch tuna sub from Subway: toasted wheat bread, melted cheese, lettuce, cucumber, pickle, jalapeno, TWO tomatoes (precisely) with oil, vinegar, salt, pepper and honey mustard; for dinner I had a shrimp chimichanga from Dos Tacos: fried tortilla, cheese, lettuce, diced tomato, jalapeno, rice, and some amazing salsa picante [definitely the pick me up I needed].. oh and I snacked on a Snicker’s bar and had chocolate, chocolate mouse ice cream for dessert (a single scoop, no cone).
Exercise today: a light 30-min workout after my post (about 2am) last night: glutes, legs, abs, and upper body and made sure to do about 10-20 minutes of stretching before bed and after waking up (I workout at strange times).
How I feel right now: truthfully I feel very ‘blah’ and I am more than okay with that. I will take ‘blah’ over ‘boo hoo’ any day.

-welcome to dani’sWorld–
PEACE

Day 7

I am in a very lethal position right now.

I recognize the rabid beast ahead of me. The ferocious animal strengthened by the smell of fear. This overtly intimidating entity lingers around the aroma of weakness. Just waiting on me to give it permission to attack.

The thing is, I have a mood disorder.
Formally speaking, a few psychiatrists have called it Bipolar Disorder.

No matter how good or bad my life is going, I occasionally have periods of highs and lows. Most often I fight to live through bouts of depression.

There is a dark cloud that seems to persistently follow me.
In this case, it appears that there is a severe storm brewing in the distance.

Moving to South Korea has been one of the most terrifying decisions of my life!

This is my first time traveling internationally and living abroad. My season of sadness is quickly approaching. The scariest part of all of this is knowing my mental history and trying to figure out how to survive a really harsh winter. Away from everyone I love, away from people who know me as best as one could imagine they know an emotionally unstable individual, without medication and with the job that affords me a legal right to live in this country at stake.

How can I not be afraid of the odds that are seemingly stacked against me?

Fearfulness aside, it was my determination to rise above the, given all-too-often, diagnosis of a mental disorder that led me to this place.

My life belongs to ME!

Not the demons from my past.

Not to anyone who attempted to break my spirit.

And most importantly, not the darkness within that threatens to take my life.

So I propose a mini challenge.

7 days. 7 posts.

I have decided that in a fashion similar to the way I did while in therapy, I will document my mood over the course of a week.

I titled this entry ‘Day 7’ because I am already claiming victory.

My thoughts when I woke up: I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to get out of bed. I want to lie right here indefinitely. Why did I take this job? Why did I sign a contract for 12 consecutive months when I have NEVER held a full time job for longer than 8 months!? How can I weasel my way out of this one?
My mood at the start of my day: severely disinterested, difficulty completing daily living activities.              *sidenote: I didn’t bathe all weekend (Friday-Monday afternoon)
Appetite: detectable diminishing (over the past 2-3 days)
What I ate today: [less than two meals] no breakfast; for lunch I had a “rice burger” that literally consisted of tuna and spicy cabbage wrapped in a ball of rice; for dinner I finally cooked the prepared chicken I made at the impetus of this downward spiral accompanied by leftover sauteed veggies from last week. I did drink plenty of water, yay me.
Exercise today: none
How I feel right now: indifferent (which I guess is an improvement from feeling noticeably down over the weekend and when I first awoke) and nervous

Wish me luck                                                               -welcome to my world-

dani’sWorld (c)                                                                                        peace

Have You Ever?

Ever feel like shit?

Usually I avoid profanity. When selecting words to effectively paint the images I see in my mind and the feelings felt by the emotions that overcome me, I prefer vibrant warm colors.

However…

In this case, the ability escapes me to find words more suitable than those chosen in the proposed question. I asked because my interest is that you, the reader, have the opening inquiry resonate in your mind’s stereo system. More precisely, I would like the last three words of the extremely concise question to echo as you, the reader, ponder your answer.

Can I tell you, reader, something?

I feel like shit!

Dissect that statement if you will.

I won’t even elaborate why, so that I do not influence your soul’s interpretation of my discourse and discomfort. In this exchange I would like for us to…

Relate to one another.

If you, my reader, have ever felt the way I do presently I humbly ask a favor of you.

Meditate on the memories and/or manifestation of feeling like something much more productive [and joyous] than a piece of poo.

Harness that energy into doing something creative and relaxing.

Bear through those feelings of hurt, pain, shame, anger, resentment, depression, suicidal ideation, contempt, discontent, suicide-contemplation, disinterest, or the total absence of interest in life and all it brings. It is only temporary.

My hope is that with a collective effort, we can all get through these crappy moods.

Whatever you, my worthwhile reader, do to remedy the feelings of poo, please do so on your own terms and in a manner that uplifts your truest self.

If not happiness, at the very least, we all deserve feelings of peace, serenity and tranquility.

I have relocated to South Korea in order to further explore methods of achieving this.

In doing so I also find that I am in a position where I must challenge myself to take my own advice. Most importantly I believe it is also my duty to share the lessons I will learn, along the way. It is my prayer that others feel less alone and more encouraged through the reading and interpretation of my words. We are in this together.

Have you ever felt like shit?
I have.

I know how heavy on the heart those feelings are.
Bipolar, depressed, schizophrenic, dissociative, chronically ill, living with PSTD, misunderstood, suffering through a series of unfortunate events, or simply experiencing a bad day, no matter the situation anyone is susceptible.

I would like to leave you, my gracious reader, with this: WE are not in it alone.

Through service I feel blessed.
Through encouraging others I feel empowered to persevere.
Through perseverance I feel victorious.

-welcome to my world, dani’sWorld-                                          peace

Broken Bordeaux

I drank red wine from a broken wine glass tonight.

I know it sounds dangerously desperate, but I cannot wrap my head around drinking wine from anything other than a wine glass. Unless of course it is the bottle itself.

I was making a pasta dish earlier. A seafood medley deserves a glass or two of wine.

I ran to the convenience store nearby to grab a bottle. Thankfully Merlot is neither English nor Korean so I just said the name of the wine and pointed. The cashier knew precisely what I wanted.

Random: Korean young-adults look so childlike. I wonder if he was even old enough to serve/sell alcohol. Either way I just enjoy the luxury of not being ID’d when I purchase alcohol here. Drinking soju while walking down the street, passing the cops is also a fun perk.

I returned home to discover that my only remaining wine glass not only had a crack in it, but that the loose glass actually pulled away and removed a triangle-shaped chuck from the rest of the bulb. As stated at the beginning of this little anecdote, I cannot drink wine from anything but its designated glass or the bottle itself. I rarely drink from the bottle. So! It was either the broken glass or no wine at all.

Had the break been dangerous enough to cause me harm I would’ve elected not to have a sip tonight. But as I sipped from my broken glass, unharmed, I realized that while broken this wine glass was still able to serve its purpose. I don’t intend to preserve the glass for continued use of course. On the very top of my shopping list is a new set of wine glasses.

I digress.

At a time when it was needed most this broken glass accommodated a certain preference. I made my pasta dish and like the broken lady I am I had my broken glass of wine as I prepared dinner.

broken but getting the job done

As random as this all may seem I was able to pull an allegory from the experience.

No matter how broken or flawed I feel I can still serve my purpose. While I may believe that I am incomplete, the part of me that still remains is whole enough to fulfill what I was placed here to do. Like that broken Bordeaux glass, at the very least I will be just enough to get the job done.

Ultimately that is the greater part of the reason I trusted in myself to move to Korea.

I refused to let the prognosis for someone with bipolar disorder interfere with living my dreams. I intend to live my life to the fullest for as long as I am still breathing!

And so should you.

..Welcome to dani’sWorld..                                   PeAcE

A Mood Disorder and Motherhood

If I had to name one of the most important components of my life that has been gravely affected by having a mood disorder I would have to say it has been my experience with motherhood.

Too many times to recount I have blamed feeling unworthy of being a mom on the fact that I have bipolar disorder.

How fair is that?

I feel cheated out of one of the most innate experiences of the human condition because of my own condition.

I have often told myself that my son would be better off without a mother like me.

I’m flighty.

I’m impulsive.

I’ve made poor decisions while in episodic moods.

I’ve regretted having a child because of my disorder.

I’m unstable.

I cannot keep full-time employment.

I feel like a failure at life.

The list could go on…

At the onset of my illness I became super paranoid that my mother was hellbent on proving that I was an unfit parent in order to gain custody of my child. My paranoia and delusions led me to lash out even more. After fighting so hard to prove that I deserve to experience motherhood, that I was fit for the task and that I did in fact love my child I only grew more resentful of the whole situation once, despite my unrelenting efforts, my bipolar just didn’t go away.

No matter how hard I fought I just could not understand why I had to be a failure of a mom. A shell of a parent. A broken woman. Why me!? I asked myself this a lot. The turmoil only caused my depression to become darker and my mania to be more explosive.

I dissociated a lot.

I had become so focused on proving that I was capable of being a parent that I overlooked what it meant to be present in all the ways that truly make a woman a mother.

My son is 11 years old and it wasn’t until three years ago that I genuinely felt comfortable receiving and reciprocating his affection. Before then I had only gone through the motions. Logically I knew that it made sense to love him. I was his mother and would do anything to secure his safety, well-being and chance at a future. The problem was that it was primarily all thought and hardly any tangible emotion.

I got pregnant at the age of 14 and did not fully understand the decision I made when I chose to keep my child.

I guess at the time I only imagined what life would be like with him as a baby. I only considered what it would take to make it through high-school and the rest of my childhood with him in tow. And I guess my mind rationalized that by the time I was an adult, the whole spectacle would be over. It never dawned on me that I signed up to be his mom for the rest of his life. I did not fully comprehend that as long as he was breathing he’d always need his mom.

As I come to terms with my diagnosis I still struggle with relinquishing my security blanket of denial. I still have a hard time remaining present in all the moments that remind me of the magic of motherhood

I think I am the hardest on myself though.

I guess I still see myself as that 15 year old girl, desperate to prove to whomever doubted me that I could in fact make such a grown up decision and handle the adult-responsibility that comes with caring for a child.

My entire perception of pregnancy, motherhood and parenting has been warped by the circumstances in which my son was born and now by the struggles associated with my bipolar disorder.

Motherhood and a mood disorder may not be the most compatible components of my life but both are HUGE components of what make me ME!

I have to accept and embrace them both.

I work daily to master doing so without dissociating or returning to the familiar place of denial. I know now that having a mood disorder does not disqualify me from being a worthy mother.

Happy Mother’s Day to ALL the moms (even the unconventional ones)!!

PEACE out!