At this point, I brought the baby and my daughter everywhere with me. If I was cooking, they had to stay right in the kitchen by me. If I was putting laundry away, then I had them in each room right by me. I was terrified every single moment of every single day. At the same time as all this, well, I had just had a baby, so I was still recovering and trying to figure out breastfeeding. To say I was struggling wouldn’t even begin to tell you how I was feeling. I felt like I failed every single day. My daughter was being verbally and physically abused every day. My oldest son clearly was having troubles, and my new baby was missing out on that bonding time with his family.
My body ached, and my heart hurt.
I was so afraid, all the time. I was so exhausted. Days went by and I was sinking lower and lower as each day passed. I was so lost. By this point I had received so much criticism from other people looking in on my situation. I was convinced everything was my fault. That I somehow made him act like that. In public, he never showed that side of him. At any other houses, he never behaved that way.
There were so many moments I felt like I was losing my mind.
If no one else saw it, then it simply wasn’t real, right? I was making it up somehow. That baby is now 3, and my oldest is 9. This all still happens, just on a much bigger scale. He is 70 pounds and even more aggressive and violent than before. I have scars from him. He physically, verbally, and emotionally abuses us every day.
No discipline tactic makes any difference.
He has stumped our doctor. And still, he somehow controls this side of him in every other setting. There’s countless holes in my walls, scratches, and broken things all over my house. Anytime he doesn’t get his way he goes into a severe and violent rage. He is constantly swearing, name-calling, throwing, and attacking. Nothing we do or say makes any difference.
So that brings us to the lockdown.
I was pushed over the edge back in December and ended up in the hospital. Having him home all day is very very hard. The moment something doesn’t go the way he wants, that’s it, the day is shot, and the remainder of the day is filled with screams and banging. Things breaking, and me trying to shield the other two from being hurt. I have no idea how to help my oldest.
I love him, but it’s different than loving my other two.
Most days I feel like I’m in an abusive relationship. But, it’s my child. How can that be? I know you’re probably thinking I’m exaggerating, or that there’s no way this is true, but sadly it is. More recently I have phoned the RCMP in crisis, only to have them laugh at me.
He has thrown chairs, flipped tables, thrown glass, tried breaking windows, and so much more. He has such troubles managing his emotions. He needs help, and I don’t know how. We’re at the doctors all the time. Sending new referrals to new doctors, and trying to piece together a plan to help him.
It’s hard to not wonder if he hates me. I’ve done the best I could.
I’m not a perfect parent, but I try my best every single day. No matter how I feel, low or high, I’m here every day doing my best. Being a mom with Bipolar disorder is no easy path. It’s so hard, and so painful sometimes. I cry so often, and I spend so much of my time feeling useless. I feel, most days, that I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve often wondered if it’s all because of my bipolar disorder. That would mean it’s really my fault.
Stay tuned for next week,
Love Always, N