It's been so long since I bared my soul on here. I think about this blog a lot, and how I neglect it, like I feel that I neglect each of my 5 kids. Which is also a contradiction, because I live for my children. Their needs always come first. I can't tell you how many times I've heard the advice 'take care of yourself first, then taking care of your family will be easier and more fulfilling". But how the fuck do you do it? Anytime I take a minute to myself, whether to use the bathroom or jot down an idea in my notebook, I'm instantly bombarded by thousands of tiny voices telling me "you should be nurturing his preschool mind, you should be singing to the baby, you should be having a heart to heart with your preteen". I feel like I am in a constant rush against time, that if I don't suck the childhood marrow out of every moment, if I don't make the perfect Mommy decisions, my kids will suffer the consequences.
Being a bipolar parent sucks. I knew it was going to be hard, but not this hard. I've worked extremely hard to ensure that my kids have a much better family life than I had growing up. They've never felt pain, they're rarely denied their whims and wishes, they've never been dealt anything but love. But I fear I have gone too far. I never thought of it as "spoiling" my children, we don't "over indulge", but I never saw the problem of letting them pick out snacks at the grocery store, or have a cell phone (it is the digital age), or play sports or buy name brand clothes. They're generally good kids. They get good grades and they are respectful of (other) adults. But, I have NO time to myself. My needs are never met. They just walk all over me. And I let them.
The creativity that accompanies bipolar is probably the worst aspect that interferes with my parenting. I have this constant flow of ideas that bombard my brain day in and day out. I want to embrace them, be the most fun Mommy out there, but I never have the time. I Pinterest. I follow Facebook and Instagram. Then I isolate myself and stay away from all social media. Sometimes it depresses me; I see all of those happy Mommies doing hands on projects and teaching art and math and science while they cook dinner. And I think "Fuck, I could be doing that. I should be doing that". And I feel that Mommy Shame. And I cry. And I lash out. Because I should be better.
That's the irony in all of this. The yelling and the depression and the episodes of instability are all related to wanting to be the best Mom I can be. I spend the majority of my therapy sessions discussing parenting strategies INSTEAD of what's been wrong with me. It's like this (forgive the pun) crazy defense mechanism. I can't delve in to the problems I'm having because they just aren't that important. But the problem is, they are.
I read an article tonight on Scary Mommy called "Hitting the Breaking Point" by Toni Hammer. It was one of those instances when the author IS you. There's no getting around it. And I cried, because I have the same options she does. I just don't know how to take them.
