Bipolar Mum Journey

From a very young age, I knew I wasn’t like all the other kids. My life had a peculiar start that set me apart. Abandoned by my biological mother and father, I was adopted by my mother’s adoptive mother. This unconventional family structure contributed to a sense of being in a different world altogether.

I didn’t enjoy the same things other children did. Instead, I found pleasure in killing bugs, starting fires, and stealing small items-not for their value, but for the thrill of deviance. The concept of “no” was foreign to me; I was determined to do what I wanted, when I wanted. 

I also found friends very boring, I much preferd adults. Despite having half-siblings, I grew up as an only child with my adoptive grandmother until I was 14.

My grandmother treated me like her little doll. She enrolled me in beauty pageants, dance competitions, and even had me participate in the annual well-dressing event. My schedule was packed with piano, violin, Latin and ballroom dancing, and disco classes. Every week, we attended church. It was a life dictated by my grandmother’s ambitions rather than my own desires. If I was to refuse to do any of these things I would be subjected to the silent treatment, My grandmother only loved me when I was doing something to fit her nartive, she would say nasty things to me that made me feel terrible. This behaviour continues to this day, I have now had to go no contact for my own sanity.

As I grew older, I began to resist this puppet-like existence. When I finally refused to participate in these activities, my grandmother’s affection waned. No longer able to control me, she allowed me to move in with my biological mother.

Moving in with my drug-addicted mother marked a significant shift in my life. Her flat, which she shared with her boyfriend (my half-sister’s father), was a drug den. Suddenly the structured life I had with my grandmother didn’t seem so bad. 

Weekend visits to my mother’s flat in Manchester prior to moving in with her were also filled with fear and uncertainty. The absolute chaos of random drug users and dealers coming and going. Returning back to my hometown, attending school Monday morning, I was plagued by the worry that my mother might not survive. This constant anxiety disrupted any sense of normalcy and stability I might have had. Always waiting for the phone call to say she’d overdosed or been murdered.

My early life was anything but ordinary. It was a journey through extremes, from the controlled environment with my grandmother to the chaotic world of my mother’s drug den. These experiences shaped my understanding of the world and my place within it, fostering a sense of resilience and self-reliance that would guide me through the challenges ahead.