0

Why the 40s are the best years of my life

Once upon a time I was an abuse survivor- 

Once upon a time I was an abuser-

Once upon a time I was a selfish cow who believed my own hype-

Once upon a time I was chronically depressed and unhappy-

None of the above is true anymore.

None of the above applies to my current life, nor has it in almost 8 yrs.

Someone once told me that the 40s were the best years of their life- way back when I was still in my early 30s and couldn’t even FATHOM being ‘that old’.

For me it is completely true.

My 30s were pretty decadent. I had a successful career that took me all over the world. I hobnobbed with the rich and famous. I was fit and in shape.

I was miserably unhappy and chronically depressed. My relationships with my family, my loved ones, myself were so unhealthy.

My 40s brought a separation from my long-suffering spouse, 2 small strokes (TIAs), the diagnosis of lupus, many deaths of people close to me, dealing with a (then) bipolar teen son with a substance problem, the diagnosis of bipolar and dementia in my mother- also, a new partner in my life, and a baby girl at 45.

The ‘bad’ things that happened weren’t so bad.

I found out that my chronic fatigue and frequent health problems I’d suffered all my life (and depression) were caused by alarmingly low vitamin D3 levels and an autoimmune disorder.

My sisters, mother, and niece all suffer from the same things. Had I not been diagnosed, neither would they have been.

My TIAs (and frequent miscarriages in the past) were genetic and due to my hypertension and Factor V Leiden which causes ‘thick blood’ and blood clots. I now take blood thinners and blood pressure meds. I was forced to change my diet and go semi (to total, depending on my whim) vegetarian/vegan.

I started juicing, working out, quit smoking after 25 yrs and started vaping.

I had to get tough with my family regarding my son’s (and mother’s) bipolar. It was a rough few years, but now at 22 (knock wood), he is on his way to becoming the person I always knew he could be. My mom’s issues will never be resolved, really. She now has dementia, so it is all downhill from here.

I had to get tough with MYSELF about my own emotional responses and PTSD from a childhood of abuse.

Therapy was a godsend for my family and me. You just take each day as it comes and live in the now.

My new-found healthy living gained me a great partner who is understanding, kind, loving- and quite a bit younger (though his maturity level probably tops mine by a TON). It also (with the help of the said person above) got me pregnant at 45.

I started growing my own heirloom veggies and went from glamma wannabe to hippie earth-mother.

I rarely travel any more and I am ok with this. My life is cozy and happy and I am catching all the bits I missed as a young mother with children.

Being happy- being content and at peace- is it’s own reward.

If someone offered me ‘the old me’ of 13 plus years ago, I’d run away.

Life is meant to be lived with the people closest to your heart.

Anything else is meaningless.

1

MORE VENTING/RAMBLING/BITCHING- and I have to say, after 6 yrs of witnessing R’s family, I appreciate my family (aunts, cousins, parents) MORE.

I don’t know if it’s the pain meds or family issues or what- but I have been extra angry lately…and weepy and emotional, you name it.

My tail bone procedure that was done a few days ago seems to be kicking in, kinda… as long as I take the pain meds with it. I am not happy with it yet, so I will discuss it with my doc on Monday if it doesn’t change. I really don’t want to be taking medications for pain for the rest of my life.

My lower back procedure is happening on Monday. I am very excited about it. I can’t wait to be able to work out again and do yoga and move and lift baby without screaming in pain or landing in the hospital.

They put me on a muscle relaxer and a narcotic pain reliever- which I detest. I am not a big user of prescription (or any) meds. I am one of those ‘hippie-dippie supplement/vitamin’ people. I don’t even smoke marijuana (and it’s legal where I live)- I am actually one of the 5% of humans that is ALLERGIC to it. I turn into Linda Blair from the Exorcist, projectile vomiting and all (TMI).
However, I have been taking the meds as prescribed because of the discomfort post-procedure. I really don’t like how emotional it is making me- or how sleepy.

I noticed, also, that the Baclofen (sp?) that they gave me for muscle spasms has been giving me EXTRA VIVID dreams. I actually dreamt that I was in Alaska the other day and it was so realistic! One of my sisters was there, too, and in my dream I ended up beating up this skanky woman who was harassing her. Earlier in the dream, I’d been to a shabby, but very clean and nicely decorated house (decorated in white) of a Native American woman who played an old wooden piano. She was wearing a beautiful beaded white deerskin dress. They weren’t nightmares- just so REAL.

Earlier in the week, I was felled by a lupus flare, due to stress. The tail bone procedure followed that. We also dealt with R’s family (parents, only sibling’s family) deciding to skip out on Maisie’s birthday (even though we HAD to attend HER KID’S 1st bday 2 months prior).

Another thing upset me this week: I helped out someone in need financially- I am not a lender, I just give. However, I was very upset (whether out of genuine hurt or just the fucking meds clouding my brain cells) because they didn’t even give so much as a ‘thank you’ after. Only a few days later, when someone mentioned to them that I was a bit miffed, did they send a long letter to me. I didn’t give it for the thanks- let’s get that straight now- but I guess I was raised differently. If I had been in the same position, I would have at least shot off a quickie ‘thank you’ text. Nothing more, nothing less. I guess it just made me feel a little used or like I’d been had, I don’t know.

People sometimes confuse me… although none as much as R’s family.

We woke up this morning to his mom and sister sending texts while en route to Vegas “Happy Birthday, MAYA”- keep in mind, Maisie is her nickname and I’ve asked that they call her that- this is another pet peeve and they know it. Hell, they call THEIR OWN SON AND THEIR UNFORTUNATELY NAMED GRANDSON BY *THEIR* NICKNAMES.

Just irks me, the entire thing- they refuse to treat their own son and grandchild like human beings and they continue to passive-aggressively (because they’d never come out and say shit to our faces, the cowards) throw these asshole barbs.

Poor R didn’t hear from anyone else in his own family- except for his WONDERFUL Italian Grandmother in Philadelphia. This woman is the ONLY human being in his immediate family that seems ‘normal’ and also seems to actually CARE about him and this child. Of course, his mother treats her almost as badly as she treats us (it’s HER mom). His Grandmom sent a lovely letter (she’s 82 and does so weekly, health allowing) and we called her. I send her photos of Maisie and videos and long letters all the time. I just love hearing from her. She commiserates with us as well, she doesn’t understand why R’s family acts like this, either. I feel so badly for her. No woman at her age should be so alone and isolated from her family. It’s not freaking natural. I understand her- she was raised by immigrants, as I was by my mom. I simply DO NOT COMPREHEND the level of cold and disconnected and passive-aggressive we witness in his folks.

My mom, who is Filipino, always got on well with Italians, too. I think they share a similarity in mindset to a great degree. Both cultures are super family oriented and clannish and opinionated. I can dig that.

Cold, quiet, reptilian communication styles don’t work with me. Hiding everything under a facade of utter BULLSHIT isn’t my thing, either.

So, yeah, this morning I felt like going postal until the party rolled around. The letter and the lovely phone call with Grandmom was also a salve to the soul.

I spent a good 3 or 4 hours talking to R and Jeff on the back porch. Jeff will be here an additional week because I need help with the baby after the procedures- then he’s back to Texas. We discussed the different ‘family styles’ we each grew up in.

In Jeff’s family- and they’re there are a ton of them- are close knit and from North Dakota. They drink together, hunt together, spend all their time together and get along well… all of them are big talkers. If someone in the family pisses off another, they will all chime in and ‘call bullshit’ to the one that’s at fault. No one really holds grudges or stays mad- they just discuss, argue, laugh, cry, and move on.

In R’s family, they never yell. They don’t discuss. His parents and sister’s family all live far away from the rest of their families back East. Things are whispered, told to be kept secret. When I met R, when he would talk to either of his parents, they would PRETEND HE WASN’T TALKING or in the room and just tune him out like he was invisible and talk to each other. It could be ANYTHING he was saying- like if he mentioned he’d done something that day or anything pedestrian like that. It was bizarre and I called them on it once in the car:

Me: “Um, hey, he was actually saying something to you and you guys did that weird thing again like he isn’t here”

Them: UNCOMFORTABLE SILENCE

If he- or anyone- tries to discuss things with them, they simply hide/stop talking/ignore… or his dad will say “I did that first” to him or something equally strange.

That is, unless they’re drinking, then they’re much more social.

R has no memory of his childhood prior to age 12 when he moved to Michigan. When I had him see a therapist about it, his family became uncomfortable with this and he stopped going.

They are somewhat affluent, can afford nice vacations every month or so. They buy him cars and control his insurance, make sure all his mail and bills come to their house, and his mother does his taxes. They call him when they need him to work on something (like their houses) or fix things or dog sit. These people live 3 blocks away and are completely different with their oldest daughter and her family. They bought two houses next door to each other (and across the alley from their ‘original’ house) when she fell pregnant and fenced both yards in. They spend every day with her and do everything with her and for her and her kid.

R doesn’t say anything to them mostly, as Jeff puts it “they have him by the balls”. His mom is passive-aggressive enough that if he rocked the boat his mail would be lost, his insurance bill would rise, etc. I personally feel like he is too old to let Mommy control his finances, especially since he lives in MY HOUSE and is a grown man.

After Maisie was born, they asked for a copy of her birth certificate. I refused. They told him that they needed it to make a college fund. I called bullshit. Needless to say, they did not get a copy of my child’s birth certificate.

His mother has mentioned that she wanted to abort R when she became pregnant (and said this in the same pleasant, flat tone she always uses), but kept him because ‘her husband likes babies’… they have NO PROBLEMS saying this in front of him, either.

R says he doesn’t make a fuss because he knows it would do no good and he accepts their gifts because he knows that is all he will get from them, as far as love and attention. I cannot imagine how hurtful it is to grow up and live like a non-entity, a second class citizen in your own family- especially one so freaking small.

The mother and daughter don’t like making the other baby (who is 2 months older than Maisie) jealous. If the grandfather holds Maisie, he is told to put her down because the other baby is getting upset. That is no way to raise a child- but the perfect way to mindfuck one. The rest of the gory details can be found here.

When we went to visit his family 5 yrs ago in Philadelphia, we found that his mother’s mom was delightful and ‘normal’ and loving. His father’s family is much more “Yankee”. The aunt that the parents and sister are closest to is very regimented. The uncles and aunt they are not as close to seem much more ‘normal’, but he was told to stop communicating with them basically when we came home, as they didn’t like it. Incidentally, those siblings of his father are the ones they have the most problems with. The weird thing is that his parents don’t always COME OUT AND SAY things directly, they have this weird almost non-verbal way of making him do things and making him understand that shit should not be done for whatever reason… it is so subtle, so Vulcan mind-meld crap-pish.

We have never met his mother’s brothers, by the way- just the grandmother on her side.

My family is the POLAR OPPOSITE (yet, just as dysfunctional- well, maybe not so much, IDK) of R’s.
We’re social, gregarious, we love everyone. We fight within our clan. My mom can be a violent, scary, crazy bitch- but she’s not truly considered part of the whole clan, which has always been a problem for her. We all love her and have feared and loathed her at the same time. Her bipolar has really done a number on us… but her good side is amazingly good. Her dementia now is somewhat of a blessing, as she is less violent nowadays, thank god.

I am not going to lie. When we were growing up she physically abused us above and beyond anything normal and legal. In this day and age, she would be put in jail and the kids would have been taken away- but it didn’t happen. Of course, in this day and age there are meds for her condition that might have made a huge difference- but it’s too late to speculate and all water under the bridge now. Back in the day, her condition and behavior were things to hush up and hide. Nowadays, people have meds for this. Sometimes I think we were born too early. She would have been a perfect candidate for those new medications- she didn’t self-medicate with drugs nor alcohol and always trusted the pills the doctors gave her.

My father’s family is made up of brilliant, beautiful, intelligent, and strong willed artistic women… and kind of depressive, more laid back males, who also are very charming, good looking, and self-effacing. There’s a lot of enabling going on in my family, but we love and hate to be together. We party together well, but if ONE PERSON (always a female) loses her shit on another family member- that member is ostracized. It used to be my mom- or one of my aunts- and nowadays, me, coz I can’t/don’t know how to shut the eff up. We all love each other and are super self-centered (at least us females). We keep the peace (well, not me. I’m the one who just says- fuck all of you, and goes and cries in the corner- and I’m a wussie because my ‘fuck all of you’ is usually only done by typing blogs) by AVOIDANCE. Avoidance and pretending shit away… unless it’s not a ‘family’ matter, then we can psycho-analyze the fuck out of OTHER PEOPLE (as I am doing now ha!)

I have another faction of my family- my maternal grandmother’s family. They’ve taken me in where my own immediate aunts and uncles have rather shunned me (which I don’t mind anymore about my aunts, I love them- but all of us together, when someone is pissed- are a high strung lot- or, I am high strung and also exhausted at the same time). It’s kinda like the Amish shunning, except with more glitz, no religion, and it’s Rumspringa all the time.

My grandmother’s family is wonderful. Unashamedly hillbilly, outspoken, down to earth/salt of the earth people. If you piss them off, someone will call you on your shit ASAP. They are more accepting, more stubborn than any of the above families at the same freaking time. I am comfortable with them. I get their humor. I love their generosity, I love how they fight, I love their bitchery, too. It’s like they’re a mix of my mother’s crazy but with a gentler and more forthright kindness that reminds me of Jeff’s clan. R loves them, too- even though he’s been pissing them off lately (and he’s pissed me off, too, so I get it). He just has no idea how to show it at all. I think HONEST is the word that comes to mind mostly when I think of them- honest- warts and all.

I love that.

Now, here’s the thing: I APPRECIATE and LOVE my family (all of them- mother/dad’s side/grandmother’s side more now that I’ve experienced R’s family dynamic.

Holy SHIT, we ALL bitch and moan about our fights and ‘who did what to whom’ and I can admit to violent behavior both done TO me and BY me/others- but damn, none of it seems as heart wrenching as R’s upbringing.

The one core thing my family(families) have is a deep and demonstrative kiss you on yer mouth type LOVE.

I don’t care how much lying we do to ourselves. I don’t care how much ostracizing and bitching that happens- we’ve NEVER HAD THIS COLD, EMOTIONLESS wasteland that he’s endured.

Not so in his family- which irks me, scares me for my own child, and makes me weep for R.

For this reason, I think I’ve been kind of obsessed about the little hurts I witness coming from his side.

For this reason, I am more ADAMANT about sticking to my guns and protecting my child and him from more of this shit.

I wish I would have been a better mother to my sons. I wish I would have been a better daughter/niece/aunt/cousin/wife to the rest of my family. I wasn’t.

But ONE thing I know: NEVER in my life have I ever done the things to my kids or others that have been done to R.

I also want a better life, a better family, a better chance at decent mental health for Maisie.

I do not believe I can do that by exposing her to his side of the family. I don’t care if they have thousands of dollars (they say) put into a college fund. I don’t care if they buy her a zillion gifts. NONE OF THIS MEANS ANYTHING without love and compassion and normalcy and stability. None of this means anything without consistency.

I will gladly welcome his Grandmom into our lives- she reciprocates and genuinely cares- and is 82 and has not many years left, unfortunately.

I won’t FORCE my child on them, I won’t run after them- nor will I let R use Maisie as a way of somehow gaining their love. It won’t work and my kid is not a pawn.

I also appreciate the friends and strangers on my Facebook (and blog/twitter/instagram) who are kind and showed so much love to my daughter on her birthday… and any day.

You people- most of you haven’t even MET HER- have been kinder to my child than her own flesh and blood.

That is not something I will soon forget.

Thank you for listening, for reading, for replying, for being an ear… xxoo

0

PANIC ATTACK: So, I get a call from my family wanting to go out like nothing happened…

So, I just get a call from my parents and the sister who yelled at me for ‘not sticking up for myself’ with my mom a minute ago. They wanted to meet me at some restaurant like nothing happened.

I instantly went into a panic attack. I can’t do this. I won’t do this. I don’t want to see them.

I was just finally recovering from this lupus flare, had stopped crying for the first time in days.

I need to be left alone. My memory isn’t as faulty as theirs. I cannot breathe when I think of this shit.

Their stance will be ‘oh, don’t make such a BIG DEAL ABOUT IT’.

They don’t understand that my body needs rest. I am not a mindless machine. I am burned out.

$5 dollars says they show up on my porch today, anyway.

Jeff says they were here earlier this morning before I woke up, but went to an antiques market.

I don’t want to cook, entertain, serve coffee, sit on the porch listening to my mother alternately berate me and praise the baby. I KNOW that she is ill. I know that she likely may or may not remember what happened 2 days ago.

FUCK that.

I need to decompress.

I am laying in bed with the baby, trying to get her down for a nap. R has gone to work, the rest are out shopping- and the house had been blissfully quiet (except for the sounds of BabyFirstTV blaring in the background for Maisie).

To top that all off, my back went into spasms again. Valium time. I hate medication.

0

My First Vlog: HUGE THANK YOU to those who supported me these last few days…

I’ve never done this before, so… thank you all. Really.

I just figured out that I could record video on my new macbook pro.

Thank you for reading my blog and the problems with my family re depression, lupus, bipolar, and dementia

What happened: http://bit.ly/1IS8ZG7

About Lupus: http://bit.ly/1g41yVx

On Why I Overshare: http://bit.ly/1LdBgIW

15

Something horrible happened to us yesterday- If you have a parent with bipolar and/or dementia, you’ll understand- maybe

the boys and maisie before the shit hit the fan yesterday

the boys and maisie before the shit hit the fan yesterday

I am super exhausted and depressed today. My lupus is flaring from the stress and I can’t get out of bed.

I will probably get a lot of flack from relatives for posting this, but I simply don’t give a SHIT. I cannot fathom bottling this up and hiding this like we have for so many years. It’s killing us all.

I am rarely ever depressed and spent most of yesterday crying- so did my oldest son, Sam.

My lack of depression is due to years and years of therapy, high doses of vitamin D3 (NOT antidepressants, they don’t work for me), and changing my mindset/lifestyle.

Yesterday was my youngest son, Connor’s, 17th birthday. For the first time in years, all three of my sons were home for this occasion.

Connor's birthday yesterday- he loves his Papa so much

Connor’s birthday yesterday- he loves his Papa so much

Sam, the oldest, recently moved home from Chicago, where he’d been at college and living for quite a few years. Jay, my middle, spent a year at college in Houston, TX with his father-before that, he’d been living on his own. Only Connor and Maisie are at home now.

My mother has battled her entire life with Bipolar NOS. When I say “battled”, I mean she mostly battered US when she lost her mind and had her cycles, because she surely didn’t get help for it. There was nothing to be done about it when I was growing up- psychiatric medications and treatments simply did not exist as they do today. To compound things, she now has early dementia at 71- which is likely due to small strokes from her Factor V Leiden genetic clotting disorder (which I also have and take heparin daily to prevent. I had 2 small TIAs- little strokes- before being diagnosed). Her memory isn’t the greatest, at least the short term. Her long term has always been selective at best as well.

Little things have ALWAYS ‘triggered’ her. To her credit, she’s been much less violent since getting older/dementia, but it’s still no cakewalk.

When she is “GOOD”,she is funny, charismatic, charming, engaging, loving. When she is “BAD”, someone may end up in the hospital, things destroyed, people may get hurt physically.

I feel so horrible for my poor father, who has always had to care for her and now is in bad health himself. She leaves on the 21st of September to go back to the Philippines and we’re all waiting with baited breath for this.

I have a unique form of PTSD, my therapist says, due to years of abuse from her. It is called “Complex PTSD“.

When she goes off, I FREEZE… and fall to pieces, as if I cannot defend myself at all. Oddly, if anyone ELSE tried the same shit she did to me, I would defend myself and others probably to the death. I am so not submissive- except with her, I turn into a scared, anxious, frightened child again. What I have is not uncommon in people who suffered long term physical and mental abuse as children- and luckily, I am not as bad off as my poor sisters.

As a result, I want better/calmer/more peaceful for my own kids. I cannot live like this anymore. I can’t. My older 2 were exposed to her/my mom helped raised them and the oldest is very like me in his responses- the middle is EXACTLY LIKE HER, down to the bipolar and rages. Connor was not around her much during her worst times/when he was small because I lived in Wisconsin. He’s probably my most well-adjusted kid. I am a much different type of parent with my younger children than with my older 2. I feel guilt and shame when I think back and realized that I ALLOWED my mother’s ‘wisdom’ and will to color my parenting style- and that I left them with her at all, truth be told.

Now she also has dementia on top of this and my dad and I are the only caregivers she has in this country. My siblings won’t help- they live too far away and she’s much more abusive to those girls than to me. My oldest sister can handle her to a certain extent, but the poor woman recently was diagnosed/is going through a horrible lupus flare and works 12 hours a day.

So, anyway, yesterday I tried to make EVERYTHING perfect: I baked Connor’s favorite- a New York Cheesecake with sour cream topping. R bought cookies and snacks for my mom. The boys tidied up the house, made coffee in preparation for their grandparent’s arrival. It was just the children, my ex, R, and my parents. We were so excited.

Poor R hadn’t showered that day and left his ball cap on because he felt grubby and had been running around town buying last minute gifts and food goodies. The boys rough housed in the dining room like old times. My oldest, Sam, got on the piano to play “Happy Birthday” so we could all sing while Conny blew out his candles.

My parents arrived and mom sat down. R came from my office with his hat on. She yelled at him that it was disrespectful to wear a hat indoors and he said “I haven’t showered”- AND SHE LOST HER FUCKING MIND ON HIM.

So, R STORMS out, the door slams- which isn’t like him at all, but she is always mean to him, calling him “That fucker”, etc. She starts screaming at ME, at Connor, at EVERYONE. She SCREAMS at Jeff about him ‘allowing’ R in our house and Jeff says quietly to her: “Mama, I have no idea what’s going on”- so she screams more and chucks her car keys at his face.

In the midst of this, I am behind Jeff and holding my baby in my arms. I see the knife near the cake and whisper to Connor- “grab the knife, please hide the knife”- because I HAVE SEEN HER TRY TO STAB PEOPLE IN THE PAST. I am getting yelled at and holding my baby and looking at my feet, scanning for escape routes just in case, just flight or fight mode x10000.

My older sons eventually somehow get her out to the porch and try to calm her down. Jeff says to me “I want her to leave”, but nobody makes that move. I can’t call the police, because she has DEMENTIA on top of this and my father can’t afford the damned bill of hospitalization again so close to her departure date for Manila. Dad ended up finally taking her home and I spent the rest of the night worrying how he was faring at home alone with her, but I did not dare call him lest it cause her to go insane again.

It went from joy to feeling like a fucking FUNERAL.

We eventually were able to blow out the candles and let Conny open presents, but his poor face was so sad. I won’t even post the videos. They make me cry every time I watch them. We took C out for a huge dinner at our favorite restaurant. He received a new Xbox One and tons of games for his birthday, which he did not expect at all.

I kept having flashbacks to an earlier birthday party at our old house, many years prior- I think it was Sam’s- when she threw hot coffee in my face and I had to lock myself in the bathroom and brace the door closed with my legs while calling 911 because I LIT THE BIRTHDAY CANDLES BEFORE SHE TOLD US TO. This was when she was still reasonably young and healthy…

…or the time when Sam was 4ish and Jay was a year old and I lived at their house. It was winter and I wanted to take them outside to play in the snow. Jay was bundled in his little snowsuit and Sam was almost ready, but she lost her mind because we COULDN’T FIND A GLOVE. I was not dressed, barefoot, in the snow holding my baby. My father was outside, too. I had a DREAM OF THIS EXACT SCENARIO A MONTH PRIOR BEFORE THE SNOWS CAME AND TOLD MY DAD ABOUT IT- in my dream, she shot us all and our blood was over the white snow. My dad called it bullshit when I told him about the premonition…

Dad and I were in front of the house and she came outside. Dad held baby Jay and she tried to beat my father with a snow shovel. She abruptly went back inside the house and I exclaimed “OMG DAD, THIS IS EXACTLY LIKE MY DREAM I TOLD YOU ABOUT!!”- so he tosses the baby to me and sprints to the barn.

I only got as far as to hide behind the tire of one of the cars with my hand over my year old baby’s mouth.

I hear the door open and I see her with the shotgun and she is SCOPING. Suddenly, I hear shots fired- I peep around the corner of the car where I am crouched and SHE IS SHOOTING INTO THE PUMPKIN PATCH.

She went back in and I ran to the barn where dad was and said “WE HAVE TO CALL THE POLICE- WE NEED TO GET HELP” or something similar.

He agrees and I walked BAREFOOT IN THE SNOW through the woods holding my baby- where she cannot see me (we lived on an isolated 20 acres, about 1/8th of a mile from the road) to the neighbors… and called the cops (this was before cell phones).

When the cops came, my dad told them I was lying.

Did I mention that my dad was ALSO a cop?

When I asked my dad later why he lied to them, his answer was:

“What good would it have done anyway? It’s embarrassing, yadda…”

So I took my children to my best friend’s and moved far away for many years.

Since my middle son started to go through similar as a teen, I have been a HUGE ADVOCATE for getting healthy mentally/mental health screening/therapy. My father never came around and didn’t support this at all until my middle boy moved in with him and he had to go through this himself.

Hiding and making excuses for mentally ill loved ones is DANGEROUS AND LONG LASTING IN IT’S DAMAGE.

I am still crying typing this. I can barely function today.

I hate untreated bipolar. I hate abuse. I hate dementia. I hate living in fear.

If you want to beat someone- become a dominatrix. If you want to be beaten, hire a domme.

DON’T FUCK INNOCENT PEOPLE’S LIVES AND YOUR OWN.

My 2 stories are mild ones in my family. I have more that are far worse.

If anything resonates with you, if you’ve been through the same, I send you hugs.

If you are like this- get FUCKING HELP NOW- YOU *CAN* DO IT. DON’T WAIT TIL IT’S TOO LATE AND YOU’RE 71 YRS OLD AND HALF YOUR FRONTAL LOBE IS GONE.

End of my rant.