Blogging is a perfect way to compile all of my writings and also encourage me to be involved writing everyday.
I am going by the name Alice Lewis to keep it anonymous. I am including what I have previously written and exploring my emotions I carry with me. Anonymous because I want to keep the people who are from the past and know nothing about my personal life (mental issues) from just looking me up on google and reading about the life I kept hidden from them.
When I tell someone I am bipolar it always changes the way that they look at me.
A neighbor who happened to know about my time in the hospital had the audacity to tell my friend, a woman I had just started hanging around with, that I was "bipolar and she should keep a close eye on her kids when they are around me." I had watched my friend's kids several times when she didn't have anyone else to help her out. I was appalled! Of course, my friend said she didn't worry that I would do anything to would jeopardize her children's safety.
The incident made me aware if something ever happened to a child while they were under my care, my medical record could further implicate my guilt. Society would assume whatever had happened to the child had been a result of my mental instability. God forbid if a child ever said I did something to them. If it went to court it would my word against the child. I have a hard time believing that a jury would see through my diagnosis long enough to explore the fact that I was innocent. Pretty scary stuff in my eyes. I have taken the safest route and no child that is not related to me is allowed in my house, Ever! Call me paranoid, but I feel like it is better to be safe then to be sorry.
Most of the time I don't want children around me anyway. I actually dislike the ones that aren't mine or are not closely related to me. I think people look at a woman and just assume they doesn't mind entertaining a child who wants to come over and talk, ask questions or be involved in the activity that is going on. I have no desire to placate other peoples monsters. I'm ok with my kids, my niece and my soon to be nephews.
Its been a goal of mine for awhile to write and be published. I have a hard time moving forward with anything that I have written. I seem to always go back re-read and edit it over and over. I need to write a rough draft far from perfect and have a minimum of 300 pages before I go about trying to make rhyme or reason of it.
It is very hard for me to go back to the torturous times I have experienced. When I put myself right back in the moment, I dredge up emotions that are painful or difficult to deal with. Describing a life of mental instability and the swings that come along with being manic-depressive is disturbing. Writing everyday will give me the opportunity to capture everything without having to remember. My life changes drastically from day to day. Thoughts can do a complete 360. One minute I can be going along my day feeling like there is nothing wrong and the next minute I feel full of dread and anxiety that has no origin or rationality.
There will never be a perfect time to move forward on this project. I do not have the ability to work outside of the home. I don't know if I will ever be able to again. I desperately desire to do something that is productive and creative with my time. I want to see the fruits of my efforts instead of cleaning the house and then watching it deteriorate over the course of a day. Alexander's habits of taking to big of a handful of pretzels and letting the excess drop to the kitchen floor and his evening popcorn that he eats in his sitting room crushed up all over the carpet immediately overshadows the progress I made. To me cleaning up after the kids is not a fulfilling life. Writing is something that can give me purpose and drive. Remind me that life isn't about everyone else, and the dark suffocating depression does not have its hold on me all of the time. My memory is horrible, short and long term. Writing everyday ensures that every emotion is exposed in its rawest form nothing to muddle the events and emotions.
I am going by the name Alice Lewis to keep it anonymous. I am including what I have previously written and exploring my emotions I carry with me. Anonymous because I want to keep the people who are from the past and know nothing about my personal life (mental issues) from just looking me up on google and reading about the life I kept hidden from them.
When I tell someone I am bipolar it always changes the way that they look at me.
A neighbor who happened to know about my time in the hospital had the audacity to tell my friend, a woman I had just started hanging around with, that I was "bipolar and she should keep a close eye on her kids when they are around me." I had watched my friend's kids several times when she didn't have anyone else to help her out. I was appalled! Of course, my friend said she didn't worry that I would do anything to would jeopardize her children's safety.
The incident made me aware if something ever happened to a child while they were under my care, my medical record could further implicate my guilt. Society would assume whatever had happened to the child had been a result of my mental instability. God forbid if a child ever said I did something to them. If it went to court it would my word against the child. I have a hard time believing that a jury would see through my diagnosis long enough to explore the fact that I was innocent. Pretty scary stuff in my eyes. I have taken the safest route and no child that is not related to me is allowed in my house, Ever! Call me paranoid, but I feel like it is better to be safe then to be sorry.
Most of the time I don't want children around me anyway. I actually dislike the ones that aren't mine or are not closely related to me. I think people look at a woman and just assume they doesn't mind entertaining a child who wants to come over and talk, ask questions or be involved in the activity that is going on. I have no desire to placate other peoples monsters. I'm ok with my kids, my niece and my soon to be nephews.
Its been a goal of mine for awhile to write and be published. I have a hard time moving forward with anything that I have written. I seem to always go back re-read and edit it over and over. I need to write a rough draft far from perfect and have a minimum of 300 pages before I go about trying to make rhyme or reason of it.
It is very hard for me to go back to the torturous times I have experienced. When I put myself right back in the moment, I dredge up emotions that are painful or difficult to deal with. Describing a life of mental instability and the swings that come along with being manic-depressive is disturbing. Writing everyday will give me the opportunity to capture everything without having to remember. My life changes drastically from day to day. Thoughts can do a complete 360. One minute I can be going along my day feeling like there is nothing wrong and the next minute I feel full of dread and anxiety that has no origin or rationality.
There will never be a perfect time to move forward on this project. I do not have the ability to work outside of the home. I don't know if I will ever be able to again. I desperately desire to do something that is productive and creative with my time. I want to see the fruits of my efforts instead of cleaning the house and then watching it deteriorate over the course of a day. Alexander's habits of taking to big of a handful of pretzels and letting the excess drop to the kitchen floor and his evening popcorn that he eats in his sitting room crushed up all over the carpet immediately overshadows the progress I made. To me cleaning up after the kids is not a fulfilling life. Writing is something that can give me purpose and drive. Remind me that life isn't about everyone else, and the dark suffocating depression does not have its hold on me all of the time. My memory is horrible, short and long term. Writing everyday ensures that every emotion is exposed in its rawest form nothing to muddle the events and emotions.
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