Hi! Thank you for stopping by here. Sorry it’s been a little while. In case you missed my last one, I’ll link it for you – Sleep With Bipolar Disorder. It has some helpful tips if you’re struggling with sleep. It’s absolutely vital to get quality sleep but even more so when you’re living with bipolar disorder. But enough about the last post; let’s get to this one. I thought of trying something different and writing about my actual life and how I cope with my bipolar disorder in everyday living. For those who don’t know me, I’m Natasha, and I’m the creator of the Bipolar Babes Club. I created it to have a space where I could actually talk about how I was feeling and the struggles I was facing. Life with bipolar disorder isn’t easy, as I’m sure you probably know that if you’re a follower.

Life Lately With Bipolar Disorder

I wish I could say that I have it all figured out, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, I often struggle with being an advocate and struggling through it at the same time. I feel like maybe I don’t have it “bad enough” to talk about it, or that maybe I don’t know enough to share information about it. But, my goal with the community has always been the same. To create a space where people could actually talk about what real life is like with the cruel invisible illness.

Shifting Dynamic in Motherhood

Lately, I’ve been going through this weird phase in motherhood. My children are 14, 11 and 8. While they still need me of course, it’s certainly not the same as when they were 5, 3 and 1. I find myself spending a lot more time alone. They’re out busy with friends and their ever evolving social calendars. (Yes even my 8 year old!)

Neighbourhood Kids and Friendships

Living in a small town gives the joy that everyone knows everyone. So neighbourhood kids develop different groups of friends than at school and you see a huge age range play together. It’s so beautiful and I love it so much. But it also means that my kids have a huge number of friends and are always on the go doing the things I wasn’t allowed.

A lot of my motherhood journey has been spent re-parenting myself and learning how to be a mother at the same time. To say it’s been exhausting wouldn’t exactly do it justice, but you know what I mean. I’ve also had to recognise that each of my 3 kids needs a different version of me and I strive everyday to make that happen. (I fall flat on my face more often than I’d like to admit.)

Spending More Time Alone

I’ve been spending more time alone and I’ve made a goal to start learning what things I find fun. I want to know what brings me joy and happiness. And when I thought about this question, I really couldn’t think of many things. I’ve been in survival motherhood mode for so long that I lost who I was somewhere in it.

In The Thick Of It – Motherhood

It was years and years of diaper changing, bottle cleaning, breastfeeding, constantly supervising, noticing everything, you know. All the things that encompass being a young mom to 3 small children. And now, my kids are starting to flap their wings and test the waters on their own and even though I’d rather them hang out with me because it’s funner that way, I want them to create their own memories and do the things they want to do. The things that light them up and bring them joy.

Being Friends With My Kids

My kids and I share a unique relationship. I would say we’re best friends but someone is probably going to come for me and say that I shouldn’t be friends with my kids. But, I suppose I’d have to disagree. I want to be friends with my kids. Best friends. And I want to maintain that friendship throughout their lives. And then, when their older, hopefully they’ll remember such great times and want to keep being my friend. So, they’re my whole entire world.

Everything I do, I do it for them. They’re everything. (They’re also annoying and drive me crazy sometimes, but you know, it is what it is.) So, we hang lots. We talk about everything and I love hearing their thoughts and opinions on real world things. The things that I was told I wasn’t old enough to have an opinion about as I was growing up, are the things I value most in my conversations with my own.

Healing During Motherhood

How healing it has been for me to invite these conversations with my own and be a mother that encourages their thoughts. But, because of our close-knit relationship and my crippling social anxiety, I don’t have anyone else really in my life. A couple of people but not many. Which has always been fine because I was so busy with my own stuff and my little kids. But now they’re so grown and they don’t need me all the time. I have time to try things, experience things, go for coffee, whatever it is I want to do.

And that’s what has me stumped a lot lately. Whatever it is I want to do. Well, what is it that I want to do? I couldn’t even remember what I liked when I sat down to start my list. I had been pushing through survival mode for so long. With constantly shifting mental health and 3 kids, I just never spent a lot of time in stability to find out who I was and what I enjoyed. Actually, it’s kind of sad how long I’ve spent just trying to be okay.

Am I really okay?

A question I strive to answer each and every day. And as life catapults me through major life events one after another, I grasp to find a branch to hold on to, catch my breath and find my footing even just for a minute. It’s a constant wonder of whether it will rain for weeks at a time, shine furiously and joyfully or just be something in the middle. But for me, the middle doesn’t last long. I am often down. More often down than up. It’s just a shitty part of living with bipolar disorder 2. One of the many shitty parts. My doctor once told me that living bipolar disorder 2 depression is different than depression. It’s heavier and is harder to carry. She told me it can be the most difficult in managing bipolar disorder. It was a time in my life I felt seen and heard. Someone was finally telling me why life felt so unbearable.

An Answer To The Question

Bipolar disorder for me was like an answer to the question I always asked. I always knew I was different and felt things differently than others. I asked the question for years whether or not I had bipolar disorder. It just felt really hard to find a middle. I was always all over the place.

Motherhood twisted up with bipolar disorder is a beautiful work of abstract art. Constantly wondering where the twists and turns are while simultaneously preparing for the potential falls and up parts. While also trying to enjoy the calmer pieces with some stability and trying to raise good tiny humans at the same time. It’s so hard! And never-ending. Even if someone took care of my kids and I had a night off, they would still consume all of my thoughts and it wouldn’t be a break. It’s crazy how much of my mental capacity is consumed by loving and caring for 3 tiny humans. If you’re a caregiver please know how wonderful you are. That is not an easy task!

I’ve tried to navigate this messy path with grace but I won’t lie to you. I’ve spent more time falling off of it than actually staying on it. Trying to find my way back to it, trying to see it, trying to do anything except be on it. Because that’s just how my brain works, and it sucks, but it’s the way it is. I constantly strive for the middle ground and usually don’t find it. I’m always one extreme or the other. There is no grey. No middle ground. Stability is a task like no other for me to reach. It’s the ultimate goal, of course, but one that I miss more times than I hit.

What I’m Trying To Say

Yikes I’ve said an awful lot without actually telling you what I’m wanting to say. I’m trying to say that I’m going to use this space to share a more intimate look of my life. The behind the scenes that I don’t really share on Instagram. Let me know in the comments how you like this format.

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Today I was up really early. The clock said 5:20 and I felt like it was a better decision to be up earlier rahter than fall back asleep and potentially sleep too late and then everything would be a chaotic mess all morning. See… thinking ahead. So awaken I did at a time when even the sun is still sleepy and hesitant to rise.

I had my coffee and started working. I get my new assignments on Sundays typically and begin working on Mondays but this week my client was running behind so I got them yesterday and began today working on them. Reading my first assignment title I sort of hesitate. They’re all tough this week. Sometimes when I’m feeling more tired than normal I’ll choose to work on an easier title and save the harder ones for when I’m feeling my best. But this week, they’re all tough. 8,000 strenuous words this week.

After I drank my coffee I headed back to my room to get ready somewhat. I usually live in workout gear or comfy clothes so getting ready isn’t really much but it’s still apart of my routine. Spruce up my curls a bit, put deoderant on, you know, the things. Today I opted for black tights and a white hoodie. (Let’s make guesses for how long the hoodie stays white. I just got it yesterday!)

When I looked in the mirror, I can’t deny the inevitable. The thing I try to run from. I’m ageing. I’m slowly getting older and slowly you can tell. And while I so much think of this as a privilege and something to be grateful for, I’m often caught off guard when I’m pondering my life and my thoughts on growing old. I notice new fine lines, wrinkles beginning to set in, and my skin sure isn’t what it used to be. I put a bit of blush on and some lip gloss and tell myself that’s as good as I’m getting. It’s time to put my mother hat on now. It’s time to wake up the kids.

Being able to wake up the kids every morning and help them get ready for school and out the door is not something that is lost on me. I know I am so lucky to work from home and be able to be so present in their lives. Being self-employed and living with bipolar disorder are two things that work well together for me.

“Good morning G——–” I say gently, turning on his light and waiting to watch his tiny toes do a little dance as he laughs and acknowledges I’m there. I’m catapulted back to when he was a baby. As I stand in his doorway to make sure he actually does drag his but out of bed and get dressed, I’m mesmerised by the beauty of time. To live, breathe and wake up each day and witness the effects of life on the body, mind and soul. My little man just turned 8 and every day with him is an adventure. I can’t believe it’s already been 8 years being his mom.

“I’m awake Mom.” He tells me (in a not so laughing way anymore). He’s telling me that so I’ll leave and he can close the door to change. I smile at him. Not only smiling at the young man in front of me but the tiny baby he once was. When his fingers could barely curl around mine. When his toes we’re so tiny and we endured daily life together. When his eyes were blue, his hair blonde, and his smile absolutely infectious. I’m caught off guard for a moment.

“Mom!” and there it is. The young man, my little man in front of me. Brown hair, brown eyes and an incredible personality. I snap out of it. As if I slowly close the door on that memory for now, I gently close his door behind me as I leave. Sweet G———has given my life so much purpose. I love being his mom. I walk up the stairs. My knee hurting again. Always hurting now a days but the doctor won’t listen to me. Sigh. It’s so frustrating to be an adult human.

I usually make G——– breakfast and my other two make their own. While this might sound strange, it’s just what what we do. G——- is typically upstairs and ready half an hour before the other two. I make his breakfast and then I get back to my writing. This morning he wanted me to play Super Smash Bros after he ate but I told him I couldn’t and that I would after school. I hate telling him no, but I hate missing deadlines even more.

I’m a very disciplined writer. I can write a lot in a short amount of time. I’m a fast typer and it’s just been something that came natural to me. I write a lot of things I don’t care about which can make for feeling quite meaningless but sometimes I get to write something close to my heart and I sort of feel like I come alive. Like my words are louder, if that makes any sense because words don’t have a volume.

At 830am it’s time to get ready for school. But today we walked to school together. We walk side by side while the wind played with our hair, making funny shapes out of our shadows. I love walking with my kids. We have the best conversations. Sometimes I find it easier to feel whatever I’m feeling and still be present with them when I’m walking rather than just sitting on the couch. It’s like I’m more intentional or something, I don’t know.

When I leave G——- at his door, I’m already excited for him to be done school so he can tell me all of his adventures. I love hearing about my kids days. We spend a good hour together everyday after school talking about our days and how they went for us. It’s my favorite time of the day. We all sit together on our couch and take turns talking about our days together. So we all know what’s going on with everyone. No one is left out of the loop. That’s been important to me.

G——- skips off to open the door and enter his whole world where I don’t exist. A world where he’s the main character and making up his story as he goes. It’s fascinating to me how time is so wicked and beautiful at the same time. Interesting how extremes can be beautiful and cruel. That’s what my life is like living with bipolar disorder. A wickedly beautiful mess. G—– flashes me one more “I love you” smile, or at least that’s what I tell myself it is and off he goes. Off to take on the world.

I put my earbud in and start my walk. See you later G——–.

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