i guess i should have noticed the bipolar and the grip it had around my throat.i try to pay attention to the kids for guidance. they are my canary in the mine shaft. only thing is i don't see brutality as a threat or something to be feared. part bipolar and part due to the life i've lead. my dissociation can leave me catatonic for days on end. i don't speak, i don't focus on anyone or anything. it can leave me consciously aware but unable to process thoughts and feelings. i usually leave the room if the boys are being aggressive towards each other, even if its harmless banter, the testosterone is palpable and i am allergic to it.
the symptom that distresses me most is when the kids are unaware of my illness and they ride the fun part out , then they pay far less attention to the dissociative part, in fact this is where the anger begins with them. it is at this stage they become fearful and resentful towards me for my behaviour. the mad laughter, the unreachable state of dissociation. and the bipolar. this process of mania and depression accompanied by some delusions of grandeur.the depression usually takes its place with the dissociation. the lay me down together in my bed and keep me quiet and still while i try to not think about my process, my cycles, all the while i drag the quilt up to my chin, layng on my bed with my tears dropping slowly with the weight of my thoughts filling them so fat and slow. sometimes i choose to see them as a rejuvenation process.easy to do unless of mind won't listen because i have a book to write or a painting to rely on to show me the truth and give me some peace. and the kids wanna slow me down, i can see that now. i used to see a battle for supremacy. both boys are over 6 foot and its difficult for a browbeaten ex wife to see clearly in a time of flashbacks to looking up at people while they corner me and stand over me and shout me down before the punches begin. i have to have it drummed into my thick head that just because my ex had the emotional capacity of a 3 year old and the rage of a 2 year old, he is not my kids, standing before me trying to show their fear over my illness.
gotta go, can't write anymore. check yas.