I moved in with a friend of mine after she found out that I was living in my car, and she told me she was bipolar and was telling me all about her symptoms. It sounded familiar, but still wasn’t enough for me to go get help. I still didn’t feel like I had a “stable” home environment, so when my ex pressed divorce, I signed the papers, no contest. I had had a lawyer, but he dropped my case because living in my car and sleeping so many different places to avoid getting caught, I couldn’t make it to every meeting. (My dad had paid for that lawyer before I wound up in my car.) I turned the custody over to them because not only did I not have a stable place for my son to live with me, but I didn’t feel I was mentally able to care for him.
Soon after I signed those papers, I moved in with the wonderful man I had been dating. He is the most generous, loving, caring, selfless man in the world. Johnny.... my knight in shining armor... he literally saved my life. When I moved in with Johnny he knew something was wrong with me. He recognized the anxiety because his mother has it and so does he. He took me to the doctor and we asked about bipolar disorder and they said it was a possibility. A PCP tried to medicate me and put me on Prozac.... and the Prozac reacted badly with my system, made me suicidal, and I ended up in an institution. That is where they found that I am Bipolar Type 1. I am now on the correct medications through my local mental health facility and stable. I miss my son so much and love him with all my heart. As a matter of fact, he is my heart, walking around outside my body. I still have manic episodes sometimes, and depressive episodes sometimes... but I’ve been clean for 7 years and sober for 2. I am a good parent, I think, but I feel so guilty for having given him up, but as far as I can see its the only choice I had in the situation I was in. So, having said that, I feel like the time I get to spend with my son needs to be quality time not quantity time.
