Day #39 – Bipolar Express

Sarasota, FL

My mom is bipolar. There. I said IT. My mom is bipolar and I am stressed out trying to manage it, or maybe micro manage it, or just plain deal with it --which is impossible, and I should know that by now because I’ve had my whole life to learn that lesson. But I haven’t learned it yet and I’m an idiot.

I had hoped that when my mother moved here in the spring it would cheer her up and turn her life around. She was so depressed in Maryland. I had hoped that Florida’s sunny weather and large senior population would pull her out of her funk, and give her lots of activities. It has and it did. She is now UP. She is now up so high that she is flying.

She is once again the center of the universe, the only one with vision, and the life of the party. Her party. Nobody else is having fun. She can’t understand why nobody understands her spurts of genius, or they don’t agree with her fantastical ideas; and so she shouts. She shouts to all of us mere mortals to try to get us to understand. If we would just shut up and listen to her we would get it. What she doesn’t see is that nobody else is talking. Nobody can say a word because she just won’t STOP talking and no way in hell is she listening. Why should she? It’s her party and listening is entirely optional. Hell, clothing is optional. Luckily today’s party is inside.

This behavior is pretty common in bipolar people. Lots of them seek treatment, and Mom has tried that in the past. It really hasn’t worked all that well. The drugs just make her miserable, bloated, and often depressed. I can understand why she wouldn’t want to be miserable, bloated, or depressed. The hard thing is trying to make her see that she really doesn’t want to be this UP, either. She is beginning to alienate people at the senior center. This is not good. She is at the center Monday to Friday, opening to closing. I don’t want her to lose that. So today, I am trying to speak rational ideas to a person whose brain does not process things rationally. Yes, I know. I’m an idiot.

Tomorrow is Monday. The center is open on Mondays. Tomorrow I will not be an idiot. I hope.