Bipolar Mum Journey

If you lined up a group of women and were asked to pick the one with Bipolar, who would you choose?

Let me answer for you, if I may:

You’d choose the woman you think is a bit much.
Too loud. Too emotional. Too opinionated.
Definitely not someone you’d trust to keep her life together.

And that’s where people get it wrong.

I’m a mum. I live with bipolar. I speak openly about it, face on show, no hiding. And no, my life isn’t a constant car crash. It’s just a life that needs a bit more self-awareness than most.

A lot of what I’ve got today came off the back of hypomania. Not the “off your head” stuff people imagine, but those periods where my brain fired quicker, I had confidence I don’t always have, and I thought “I’ll give that a go” instead of talking myself out of it.

Did it need managing? Course it did.
Did it ruin my life? No – not even close.

What ruins lives is pretending bipolar only ever shows up as disaster.

There’s so many daft ideas about women with bipolar. That we’re unstable. That we’re unreliable. That we shouldn’t be trusted with responsibility, relationships, or kids. As if having a mental illness suddenly wipes out common sense.

The reality is guys, when you stop fighting bipolar like it’s your enemy and start understanding how your version of it works, it becomes manageable. Not easy. Not cured. Just manageable – and that’s enough.

You learn your warning signs. You learn when you’re running hot and need to slow down. And you learn when you’re in a good place to push forward without burning yourself out.

And then there’s the bit people never want to talk about without whispering.

Hypersexuality.

It’s treated like some dirty little secret, especially for women. Like it’s something shameful or embarrassing, instead of what it actually is – a symptom. Part of the condition (or sever trauma). Not a moral failing.

No one wants to admit it because it doesn’t fit the “good woman” mould. But pretending it doesn’t exist just causes more problems and immense shame.

The difference is honesty.

Having open conversations with your partner or someone you might be seeing – changes everything. Saying “this can be part of my bipolar” instead of carrying it like guilt. Putting boundaries in place. Being upfront rather than letting things spiral quietly.

With bipolar, secrecy is what causes damage.
Honesty is what keeps things steady.

I try not to dress this condition up as some sort of superpower but it has been at times. Some days it’s hard work. Some days it’s exhausting. And some days you have to admit you’re not at your best and take responsibility for that so, the people around you don’t carry that burden.

But I’m sick of the idea that women with bipolar are doomed to fail.

We’re not a liability.
We’re not dangerous (unless you brutalise us).
And we’re definitely not incapable.

We just have to know ourselves better than most people ever bother to.

I want to keep talking openly about my Bipolar because silence nearly did me in. I show my face because I’m not ashamed. And I keep saying this out loud because someone else is sat there thinking they’re a mess, when really they’ve just never been taught how to live with their own mind.

Bipolar isn’t my whole identity.
But it’s a big part of my life – and once I stopped fighting it, life stopped feeling like a constant uphill slog.

Medication has also been a lifeline for me. And like you, I understand the pull of hypomania. However, I still experience it on Quetiapine, just at safer, more manageable levels.
If you’ve been resisting medication, I’d gently say, stick with it. Even a small dose is worth it.