Where do I start? right here I suppose. I was born September 1973, I often think had I been a boy my name would have been ‘Damian’ as I was to my parents marriage. All those years together, then me, cute but I had brought out in my mother what I now am myself.

Anyway, dad struggled with me from around age 10, he used to tell me, ‘your just your mother over the back’ and how true he was. I was evil, a demon of a child, when I think back to some of the things I did I feel really ashamed, sorry I forgot to mention my dad got custody of me when I was three, but the damage had already been done.

I ended up in care from the age of 11 till I got my first house at 17, there were times I felt dad had been dealt two bad deals, having to put up with both of us. I went to visit him one weekend when I was 15, only to find out that my mum was dead and buried, apparently he hadn’t been informed either but there it was in front of me in the local paper.

I weathered it, like I’d always done and just got on with things or so I thought at the time. what was ahead of me was incredible, I made my dad proud of me! I wasn’t his little ‘disgrace to society’ anymore, I got myself a great job,a great man and gave him a beautiful grandaughter, but he still ‘hosed up his car’ in the garage. I often think it’s because I stole my mother from him.

My dad was diagnosed with lung cancer January 1997, I didn’t do that much except visit now and then, I was on a roll again, getting places, doing things! 

LOOK AT ME DAD, I’M ON TOP OF THE WORLD, in what I now know was a manic period,  I would step on anyone and anything that crossed me or got in my way. Dad died February 1998, one week after his 60th birthday which I forgot, took the phonecall pretty well and tried to act accordingly. Sorry, I forgot to mention I was diagnosed with PND after my first daughter, 8 years ago, had she done to me what I’d done to my mother? I was more concerned for her father so I threw him out, thinking I could stop the cycle.

Good old days came and went, I’d been through every anti-depressant in the book, had another daughter, my girls have rescued me so many times when I feel like this, I always knew I would never get better. Just lifted high enough to forget.

Things got out of control last week so I went to the doc’s as always and low and behold, he mentioned ‘Bipolar’ and took bloods as he thought I should start taking lithium, I’ve known this day would come, and, after reading other stories, I think I might give it a bash. Wish me luck guys!

            

Mind.

 

 

 

 


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