My boy is growing up.

Parenting is hard whether you are sick or not. Earlier on in my original diagnosis, I worried about my capacity to raise a healthy child and whether the government would step in and take him away. I have spent alot of time in hospital with mothers who had had their children removed from the home due to safety concerns or signs of neglect. It was so evident that these mothers loved their children with primal instinct. They just couldn't express it in a healthy way. As was my situation. The difference was that I completely neglected myself as I only had enough energy to feed, clothe and bathe my son. So my beautiful boy grew up with a delusional, unstable, angry and fiercely protective mother. I was alive as long as I could provide for my son. I vowed that if I ever hurt my son, I would find him safe haven and kill myself. I would not perpetrate all the terror I myself experienced as a child. I would rather die. My son is the reason why I am still here. I am so grateful for his wonderful innocence, vitality, optimism and sense of humour. He is 13 now and nearly as tall as me with his broad shoulders and large feet. He is beautiful and I am so, so, so proud of him. I love you babe. You rock!

New Diagnosis at 34

After 5 years of relative stillness and moderately good mental health, I was thrown into the twilight zone. I was admitted last year into a psychiatric hospital that I am all too familiar with. What happened? How did it go so wrong so quickly? It had been 5 years since I had been admitted previously and I remember vehemently swearing to myself that it would be the last time. I had weaned myself off Olanzapine and Zoloft, met a really great guy, raised a great son, started my science degree and worked in the Pathology department in a major hospital. I was on the fast track baby! I don't know if I was content or peaceful but I felt happy, I think. Unfortunately, I can't really trust that now because it all fell apart at a catastrophic rate. I still have my wonderful partner and my beautiful son but everything else was taken away - my freedom, my intellect, my ability to cope, my trust in myself. At 34 I was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder. I was diagnosed at 21 with Borderline Personality Disorder and Schizoeffective disorder as well as anxiety disorders. I spent many years in and out of hospital and took enough medication to kill a horse. I was also a single mother for most of it and am eternally grateful for the support of my father who did his best to look after my son and support me. Imagine my grief at being diagnosed bipolar so much later in life after already battling for so long. So the Borderline has resurfaced, the anxiety has come back with a vengeance and I truly struggle with "Why am I here" and "Who the hell am I". I deal with this by being grateful even if I don't feel it, bring God and the universe into my life, pat my dog, kiss my partner and gloat over the wonderful job my hard-working son did on his report card. I am not a naturally optimistic person. I am a cynic and a pessimist as well as being inherently terrified of humanity. I love nature and what the earth represents. This teaches me humility and light and this is what matters when so much of your existence is spent in terrifying darkness. What gets you through the day? I would love to hear it.

Mental Health Revolution

Hi Everyone! Its great to start something new and with invaluable help from my son I have created my first blog! Lets start talking - mentally ill and mentally healthy alike because we are all in this together, no matter how isolated we might feel. Lets keep fighting the good fight and to all the precious carers out there, I salute you!