Alright people, it is story time. I’m going to tell you my story, from start to finish…are you ready? Good, because I’m not.
June 11th, 1998 I was born in Tahoe, California. My family and I moved to Traverse City, Michigan when I was not even a year old. After an apartment or two, we moved into our house on the peninsula; a three-story home that was totally outdated, with a pool that took way too much time and effort to maintain, and a huge steep hill that we turned into our personal playground. This was home for 13 years.
I grew up with two sisters until about the 5th grade, when my oldest sisters best friend Megan came into our lives. After two years of foster care in our family, we officially adopted Megan into our lives on June 17th, 2011.
Let’s take a step back though because my story begins way before we adopted Megan. My story actually began before I was born. When my mom was sixteen she was diagnosed with severe Bipolar 1 disorder. For those of you who don’t know, BiPolar 1 disorder is a mixture of manic episodes (high energy, elevated moods), depression, and uncontrollable emotions. Bipolar created a state of chaos in my home for the majority of my young life.
Disclaimer: Before I continue you should know a lot of my story is hard to hear, difficult to write even, but it is a story of hope. Don’t stop reading because what I have to tell you is uncomfortable and saddening. Keep reading because my story, my family’s story, is not over yet and oh how God has changed our lives in the past year.
There was a time when I would walk into my mom’s room and realize she had barely moved from her spot in several days, too drugged up on mood-stabilizing medications that she was numb. Her depression had taken over her life and my mom who was once so full of life and spirit was fading fast. As a young kid, you can’t really do much when your mom is so sad that she doesn’t want to eat, and when all she does is sleep, and your dad works from 5 am until 6 or 7 in construction. You go to school like everything is normal, you go outside and you play with your neighbors and you act like everything is normal…even though it is far from it.
Fast forward about a year from the mind-numbing medication stage and we get to a point where we are trying different combinations of medications. Oh, what a stage this was. At this point we didn’t know what kind of mom we were coming home to, sometimes we came home to the mom who just wanted to give us hugs and kisses and squeeze us with love and kindness. Other days we came home to a mom that would fall apart in a fit of rage if the bathroom wasn’t cleaned correctly. The rage consisted of screaming, yelling, and taking anything and everything out of proportion. We walked on egg-shells daily.
Our worst years were yet to come though…2011, marked the start of the worst years. We were all so excited when we adopted Megan, she had been a part of our family for two years already, but the adoption made it official. I had a new sister. Like a marriage, our family had a honeymoon stage, but that stage was short. Soon my mom began to resent Megan for not calling her mom, she resented her for just about anything Megan did. Their fights were out of control. We came home every single day to screaming and fighting, my dad trying to stay the mediator without getting his own head bitten off (my dad is honestly a saint for dealing with five girls).
Within this year and the beginning of 2012, we lost our dog of 12 years, Annie. She was the gentle spirit of our family and it was so incredibly difficult to lose her. During 2011 we also lost my great grandma, I remember going to her house to be offered whatever she had in the pantry, to play some board games and to just enjoy her company. Then to add onto all of that, we lost my childhood home at the beginning of 2012. We moved into a townhouse in the ghetto area of Traverse City. Each of us felt the loss of that house more than anything, so many memories created in 13 years. Our beloved dog was buried in the backyard, our toboggan hill was still gouged into the hill, the marks of our lives were engrained into every part of that house.
By the time we had moved to the new house in Bay Hill, I had been struggling with more than just my mom’s bipolar. At this point in my life, I had already dealt with Scarlett Fever, three cases of pneumonia, and several more cases of bronchitis and sinus infections. Every winter after the time I got Scarlett Fever I got incredibly sick from a common cold. What would be a normal cold with a runny nose and a light cough would turn into pneumonia within a day or two. There was no avoiding it, there was only the rush to the doctor to get more antibiotics and steroids to combat it. Which brings me to August 2013 when I had to get surgery to try and deal with my chronic pneumonia. I had my adenoids taken out, bone removed from the upper part of my nasal cavity to help with drainage, and a deviated septum fixed. This was one of the most painful things I have ever endured, two weeks of recovery right before going back to school. My school picture that year featured me with caked on makeup to cover up the bruising all while still being on pain medications.
At the end of 2013, we moved once again, this time to a house near downtown Traverse City. My moms’ bipolar was far from under control, she was now unmedicated because she was tired of all of the symptoms and the back and forth. December 2013, two weeks prior to Christmas, I was home with my mom and my best friend Ashley. My mom was in the worst place I had ever seen her, her depression was taking over. I sat on the couch with my mom while Ashley sat upstairs. My mom then told me that she wanted to die, that she was considering going to an inpatient suicide center called Center One. After this conversation, I walked upstairs and broke into tears with Ashley.
The next day I came home to my grandma sitting on my couch with my oldest sister, she told me that my mom had attempted suicide and was in the hospital at Center One. We were allowed no contact other than a phone call for 5 minutes for the next two weeks. Only my dad was able to go visit her. I remember immediately walking out the door and just running down the street, choking on my own tears and then feeling incredibly numbed by the news. Every part of my soul hurt, I was angry, I was sad, and I was so so confused. How did we get here? Why did she want to leave me? What did I do to cause this or deserve it?
All of these questions would scroll through my brain like a never-ending movie for the next year. I turned to self-harm to try and feel something, I sat in the bathroom crying my eyes out staring a bottle of prescription pain medications, begging myself to just take all of them so it would all be over. I started to see a counselor, and it started to help but I continued cutting and therefore was referred to a psychiatrist who gave me medications to combat depression, anxiety, and lack of sleep. I took the medications for around 6 months, after the six months I was finally in a place where I felt normal again and had the coping mechanisms to deal with the questions.
I sat with my mom one day and told her how angry I was at her because when she tried to commit suicide the hardest part of it was she tried to leave ME. After this conversation, I was able to let go of my anger at her, she had no idea I felt the way that I did. This is was a huge first step in the right direction for our relationship.
Later that year, my mom was doing better but we were still far from a normal family. The chaos and fighting still was a regular part of our lives and most often it was about Megan. Either my parents fighting about how my mom treated Megan differently, or Megan and my mom fighting, or me and my mom fighting, and so on. Their worst fight ended with a wine glass being thrown and shattered as my other sisters and I hung out in the basement just waiting for the fight to be over. The end of 2014 Megan moved in with my grandparents, the environment was toxic for both Megan and my mom, so everyone felt it was best they took some time apart.
Things truly started to go up from here, my mom eventually got on the right types of medications, too many some would say but she was stable. Our family was starting to feel like it was coming back together again. Slowly but surely.
I’m going to fast forward from then to current, much has changed between 2014 and now 2018. Four years have gone by, I’ve graduated high school, I’m graduating college in less than a year and I’m about to go on the journey of a lifetime. My mom is now only on low doses of two medications and is the healthiest and happiest she has ever been. A change in diet, routine, and a switch from heavy medications to herbal supplements has changed her bipolar journey completely. Both of my parents now live on the beaches of Cancun as my dad works for Hope4Cancer – an alternative cancer treatment center based in Mexico. Megan has now been married to her husband Sean for two years and my mom and her have mended their relationship completely. My oldest sister Alli is a kick-butt lifeguard, working on becoming an instructor and finally my little sister and I along with Ashley are living together in Grand Rapids.
When I tell people my story, most often their question is would I have changed it. My answer is always no. Though our story had a lot of darkness for many years, I have the best relationship with each one of my family members because of what happened. We are able to laugh, joke around, enjoy each others company, and understand that life throws heavy curveballs but we will always get through it. I know there is always a light at the end of the tunnel because I have seen it. God has been here in all of this darkness, he has listened to me yell and scream at him, he has held me in my darkest times when I felt like I just couldn’t stop crying. He is the reason my family is where we are today.
My story is far from over, but I am so proud of where I have been. It has made me who I am; a strong, independent, compassionate, over-thinker. This is the story I’ll be sharing along my journey and I am praying that God will use it in mighty ways.
Please always remember that darkness is only temporary and that is perfectly okay to not be okay.
