Bipolar Mum Journey

Alright, folks, I know it’s been a minute since my last post. How’s everyone feeling as Christmas approaches? Honestly, I can’t stand Christmas. When I was younger, I used to take on silver service shifts on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and Boxing Day, anything to avoid spending it at home. Back then, Christmas meant either being surrounded by depression or watching my grandmother tear into my mother with her narcissistic ways. It’s no surprise my mum ended up with a heroin addiction after enduring that mini hitler.

As for me, I’ve always had a strong will, and witnessing my mum’s struggles was enough to steer me away from that path. I make sure my kids have a wonderful Christmas, putting on the festive spirit for their sake, but there’s always this sense that something’s missing. And no, it’s not my dead parents, I can’t even blame it on them since they never made Christmas enjoyable. One year, my grandmother handed me four bottles of Babycham when I was about eight, and I ended up pissed as a fart, knocking over the tree. Looking back, it’s no wonder I’ve got Bipolar.

I’ll do my best to write more regularly. For now, don’t let the Christmas pressure get to you. Remember, being present with your loved ones matters far more than any gifts you could buy. I don’t remember one gift growing up, only that I wish my parents gave me more time and attention.

The greatest gift you can give them is your time.💕