My Mother Has Type 1 Bipolar Depression Disorder

When I was around seven years-old, my twin brother and I were called downstairs by my mother to have a family meeting. It was then in the kitchen that she decided to tell us that we were going to have to move because my father had been offered a higher position in his company but to obtain that position we had to move to Atlanta. At first, I laughed it off, thinking my parents

I started working from the age of 18 in a restaurant as a waiter and used to help my mom in running finances of the house and well being of siblings. I met my spouse in college and brought her home to meet my mother; Mother disliked her without many reasons and wanted me to leave her or leave her house immediately. I stayed with my mother for the next six months but later on I got married to the same girl and moved out. This action enraged my mother saying that she didn't want to see my face and that I should not be present at her funeral. To make sure

She was in treatment for a couple weeks, during which I was not allowed to visit, due to the fact that I was only 15 at the time. When she was in the hospital, I helped my parents with anything they needed. It became my routine, doing laundry, cleaning the dishes and watching after our pets. Despite my constant optimism, I soon found myself in a state of aloneness as well. My parents were busy with paperwork, visitations and conferences, that I soon became invisible. I spent several days and nights by myself, not knowing the state of my sister's mental health. The last time I saw my sister was the morning before she was admitted to the

In September 2013, I came to the United States and lived with my mother for nine months. In those months, my stepfather left my mother and she became more aggressive with my sister and I. One time she went to my stepfather’s job and cut her veins and was immediately sent to the hospital, I had to take care of my little sister since then. She didn’t take care of us and was really difficult for me to take care of myself and my sister’s needs. One day on May 2014 she came home and started fighting with me saying that all her problems were my fault and threatened me with killing me, she threw my clothes out of the house and I left to my grandma’s house. I just needed to finish school before I could moved to West New York, I graduated on June 26, 2014 and that same day I came to West New York.

Bipolar disorder has been gaining more and more attention over the last few years. With shootings on the rise, or at least the publicity of them, people are often pointing their fingers at mental diseases including bipolar disorder. An ongoing issue regarding mental illnesses, however, is the population has failed to fully understand what they truly are, the symptoms, and how to treat them.

When I was about four years old my dad was still working in the military. Then one late afternoon my dad calls a family meeting in the dining room then BOOM he tells us that he got a new job offer and that we’re moving virginia. I didn't really know what that meant cause I was 4 but my sister was devastated Because she had tons of friends at school and at home and she liked it. So we packed our bags and set out to virginia.

My mom spoke very little to each of us and seemed to be gone longer and longer each day until Saturday, which was moving day. That Saturday I had a band concert for relay for life at my local park. As the performance came to an end my best friend and I hop in the backseat of her mom's sweltering car and crank up the radio. We listen to our favorite throwbacks as her mom speeds down the streets rushing to get me home. As we pull in the drive, an unfamiliar vehicle idles in my driveway. Inside my house lays all of my moms belongings neatly piled up by the door waiting to be taken. My mom greets me at the door and introduces me to her boyfriend. He is much taller than me and talks down to me as if I'm a child. I cut the conversation short and sit on the couch with my dog Casey as they continue moving her things. After the last item is hauled away, my mom looks at me through the glass of the front door and says “I'll pick up Casey later.” and vanishes without another

Living with a person who has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, or even being a family member who has a genuine concern for this individual’s well-being is a strenuous process. Learning how to recognize and handle disruptive behavior, understanding the symptoms, supporting the individual through potential treatment or recovery periods and assessing the overall situation in the most effective manner is a long-term and constant commitment. Thus, family members, particularly those who take on the role of caregiver are often impacted as severely, if not more so than the person who has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, at least on the surface. Bipolar disorder and

First, the individuals who are tested for bipolar disorder are typically those who are over the age of 18, meaning that a large amount of people who have bipolar disorder are not actually diagnosed, or their information has not been aggregated. Therefore, the actual total number of people who have been diagnosed with bipolar disorder could very well reach higher to an estimated five percent of the population (Van Meter, Moreira, Youngstrom, 2011, p. 1254). The overall ailment typically manifests before the age of 25, and then an individual begins experiencing a variety of symptoms that make one’s mental health difficult to

Growing up as a child, my mother was constantly anxious, went through periods of depression, and mania but I perceived her as normal. My mother has type 1 bipolar depression disorder. My family and I were not aware of the actual diagnosis until six years ago when she had a mania attack and periods of severe depression. The average age of onset of bipolar is 25 however, she was not diagnosed until 55 years old. From 2009-2010 my mother, Lois had been severely depressed, she never left the couch, watched television all day, lost her job, and begun putting weight on. Henceforth, My family and I had discussed getting her help for her depression but we weren’t sure how to approach the situation without making it worse because she was reluctant to get treatment. In May of 2010, my cousin called the police stating her aunt was severely depressed and needed treatment immediately. The police and an ambulance came to my home and they took her out of our home on a stretcher. From what I can recall, she was screaming “Please don’t let them take me, please Alison.”

When we pulled into our new driveway, I was transfixed by the pile of junk that laid in front of my grandma's penury looking house. Once we entered we saw a note taped to the distorted fridge it said “I Have decided to move to Hawaii, but have fun in your new house”. I couldn't believe her, we had traveled all of this way to help her and now she just picked up her things and left.

After four years living with my father, my mother decided to move her and me to America. This was due to the conflict present within the family, which details are unknown to me because of my age, as well as to ensure a beneficial education, leading to vast opportunities for her children and allow my mother to return to college to receive her bachelor’s and master’s degree. During the months after our departure, my father stayed in contact through weekly phone calls. After my sister’s birth, we returned to Jamaica. Again, after a shorter time period, we returned to America as the problems had risen again. Succeeding the time of our final departure from Jamaica, contact from my father has dwindled to an occasional text message on mine, or my sister’s birthday each year. In July of 2009, after months of preparation, my father came to stay with us for one week and then returned to Jamaica. Since July of 2009, I have had no physical/facial interaction with my noncustodial parent and the contact that I do receive is through passed along messages from my Aunts who travel from America to Jamaica. My mother has raised three kids: my sister, myself, and my brother; without paternal nor federal aid.

Throughout my childhood my mother had severe bipolar disorder and took her daily rage out on my three siblings, my father and myself. My oldest brother, Nick, was impacted by her behavior and grew into a violent child. When my parents were gone Nick was the babysitter. I was weak and defenseless—an easy target for the outlet of his anger. He formed an alliance with our siblings and tormented me with every opportunity. Eventually, I developed a fear of my siblings in addition to my established fear of my mom. This fear turned into depression and self-doubt. For years I dreaded being at home where I was blanketed by harassment and blame, so I actively sought out opportunities to escape.

It was a bone chilling January night; my mom received a call at about 11:15 PM, a call that changed my life forever. My Aunt June was on the other line. She was crying so hard my mother could barely understand her. Through the sobbing my mom finally understood that Brian, my cousin, had been in a horrible accident and she didn’t know how bad it was. My mother jumped out of the bed after she hung up the phone. She screamed up the stairs at my sister and me; it was a nerve shrilling scream. I could hear fear in her voice. My mom was always yelling at us growing up if we forgot to do something. She would even get us out of bed to finish something that wasn’t done completely. This particular

It was May 17th, 2011, it was a normal school day when my brother and I were told that my mom called to say that she was picking us up early. I was anxious, wondering why we were going home early and breaking our usual routine. When my mom came to get us, the first thing that I noticed was that she didn’t greet us with her usual smile. I was 9 years old, very observant, but not able to sense what was to come. We got into the car, when I asked my mom where we were going hoping