Bipolar Mum Journey

I’ve been trying to go through over ten years of mental health paperwork for the past few years. Every time I read a bit, I end up piling it all back up and shoving it away. I don’t like reading about that version of me from age 27 to 37. Who even was she? Mentally fucked, that’s who.

There are a few documented “antisocial incidents” in there, like the time I threatened the receptionist at the mental health clinic. She was new, rude, and clearly thought her shit didn’t stink. She acted like she was better than the rest of us just because she was “normal.” I was there to let her know she wasn’t. She was a full-on cunt. Watching her talk down to mentally ill patients in front of me had my blood boiling. I had visions of grabbing her by the head and smashing it into the desk. I didn’t, obviously. I did warn her though, told her she was lucky I wasn’t the person I was pre 2015. I won’t get into exactly what I said, but yeah… I get why that was labelled antisocial.

Then there was the time I was escorted off the school grounds for telling another mum that if she wanted to talk shit, she’d best step outside and make it quick before I stuck one her on her bonce.

I even joked to my forensic psychologist that maybe she should be diagnosing me based on the stuff I hadn’t been caught for, instead of the stuff I had. Implying that the crimes I’d committed outside of my record were probably worse than GBH with intent (her assumption, written down).

Does nobody get dark humour? Clearly not forensic psychologists (note to self). Sure, there was a bit of truth in that statement but I’ve never meant I’d done anything worse than a Section 18. I just meant I’d done more crime, crime I’d actually committed as opposed to the joint enterprise charges with my ex. 

I wouldn’t say I’m antisocial in a bad way, I’m just street and I speak my mind. Rough around the edges, a bit of a ladette. Say what you like to me; it’s water off a duck’s back. But touch my kids? Christ, you’ll know about it.

Too many people got to put their hands on me growing up without any consequences. That won’t be happening to my three. That’s not antisocial. That’s being a protective mother. End of.