Motherhood and Bipolar

This story begins like all fairy tales with “Once Upon A Time.”  Once upon a time I was a good, maybe even great, mother.  Once upon a time, I felt it was my greatest accomplishment of my life.  Once upon a time I knew everlasting love.  Once upon I time, I believed in forgiveness, but that fairy tale still weighs heavily on my heart.

I came to bipolar late in life or maybe earlier but wasn’t aware of my own destruction.  My abusive, even destructive, childhood,  even after years of therapy, is still a struggle with those scars.  And, unfortunately those scars, they carried over into my mothering in later years.  I was medicated, dealing with toxic relationships with others that were simply a repeat of my childhood.  But my history is only an explanation, not an excuse.

I have three children, the first two much older than the third.  I think, I hope, that I provided the first two with everything I could.  The support, encouragement, time, and unconditional love with every fiber of my being, to help them become happy adults.  And as they grew into the amazing adults I knew they would, my life changed.  I don’t know the how or the why and may never know, but it did.

My shining stars, the pride of my life, as adults became people I could like as well as love.  My third child, my angel face, bore the brunt of my illness since she was only an adolescent while the older two were, by then, adults carrying their own baggage of my making.  Happy in their own lives, but tired of the pain I brought with me.

My angel face, at a time when she needed me most, did not have me to support or rely on.  It is shameful to admit.  My good mothering became a thing of the past as I sunk deeper into the dark.  And it was so very dark.  But never, never did the love die for them all…it was pushed aside as I fought for my very survival and hoped that I could once again understand and be the mother I so badly needed and wanted to be.  My relationships with my two older children/adults suffered greatly.  I couldn’t explain, couldn’t reach out for support or give it, and retreated even further into my isolation, pushing away the only people who brought light and joy into my life.  I didn’t deserve the light or the joy.

While the older children, adults, felt resentful and even disgust, for how could I explain something that I couldn’t, at that time, even understand myself?  I was rejected, as I had rejected them, though the love was and will always be a part of me.  Their rejection was something I could understand, and the dark overcame me with devastation, misery, and hopelessness.  The guilt was overwhelming, and yet I could do nothing about it.  I could feel it swallowing me whole.

But my baby, my angel face, stood by my side, carrying me through with the weight of the world on her shoulders.  She didn’t waver even though, at her age, I was not able to provide the things she needed from her mommy.  And that love and support is the only thing that pulled me from the abyss and still does to this day.

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about forgiveness.  And I cannot forgive myself for the person I had become, regardless of any reason or justification.  How can you justify these things and the unwitting choices I had made?  You can’t.  I relied on my angel face as my sole beacon in my diminishing world, and it was monumental that, at her young age, she carried me through.  The strength of her character both made me proud and shamed me for needing to borrow on that strength to give me hope.  She refused to believe I was hopeless when I felt despair.  Her beacon of light gave me the will to carry on.  And I still felt so unworthy.

My angel face is now the happy, strong, amazing woman that she is, and I can really take no credit for that, even as I take pride in her and her accomplishments.  Not only did she do it because of me, she did it in spite of my actions.  And she forgave.  Today I would give my life to be worthy of that love…and it is something I strive for every day.  She understands, and she forgives me when I simply cannot forgive myself, at least not yet.  Through her I am navigating the steps toward my own forgiveness.  I am needy, but she says I am her best friend, and I try to provide everything she missed out on in her younger years.

And with my older two?  I said before that I apologize with no chance for forgiveness.  Forgiveness is not something I deserve.  Someday I hope for acceptance within myself to be able to move on.  It is something I think about and regret every day of my life.  But understanding and acceptance and love is not in my future from them.  How to move on without that chance?  I move on with the beacon of love that is by my side, in the darkness and times of light.

Forgiveness and understanding?  Never from the two who will always be a beloved part of me.  Moving on?  Maybe someday.  But my angel face beacon?  She takes my hand and heart and brings me to a place of love and peace, and I am grateful beyond belief for her compassion, love, and true forgiveness.  For now, that is the light for which I am eternally thankful.