I am Staci and I am writing my background story first to share with everyone who has a mental illness or has friends and family with a mental illness and those who have children with disabilities. I found out I was bipolar at 15 in 1995. It was my 15th birthday actually. {Prior to age 15, I grew up in a poor, volatile, and abusive household. My father was always angry and often violent towards me, my mom, and my little brother. (He has changed now and I will explain why later.) I was also sexually abused by my dads cousin at the age of 8. When my parents found out about the abuse from my diary, my dad didn't believe me. Not until years later when that cousin got caught abusing another little girl.}
I had been sleep deprived for days and started exhibiting bizarre behavior. At one point I left the party and walked across the yard to where a neighbor was and started singing "I will always love you" to him. It's funny now, he said: "Well that's great honey but I'm married!" Oh my. People say I just wasn't myself. I would be laughing and then suddenly crying. I was ungrateful for my cake, for presents, and the whole shebang. My grandma and mom took me to the ER where I was evaluated and sent to a behavioral health psych ward for 9 days. Back then, you weren't allowed visitors for 48 hours. I thought my parents had abandoned me. In the hospital at age 15, I remember being held down, having my pants pulled down in front of men and given a shot to calm me down. I was so shy and inhibited from the sexual abuse that this scared the crap out of me and made me feel embarrassed and violated. From there, I would just lay in the hallway with the one thing I had from home, my blanket. I wouldn't eat and I just slept - trying to run from the nightmare I was in. They wanted me to do things like shower and go to the bathroom in front of them. As a sexually abused child I could not do it. One time I threw the "hat" they wanted me to pee in at a nurse. This got me thrown into a rubber room. So you can see that my experience with that psych hospital was as damaging as it was therapeutic. When I was released my parents were told I had manic depression, now called Bipolar disorder.
Wikipedia states that "Bipolar disorder is a psychiatric diagnosis for a mood disorder in which people experience disruptive mood swings. These encompass a frenzied state known as mania (or hypomania) usually alternated with symptoms of depression. At the lower levels of mania, such as hypomania, individuals may appear energetic and excitable. At a higher level, individuals may behave erratically and impulsively, often making poor decisions due to unrealistic ideas about the future, and may have great difficulty with sleep. At the highest level, individuals can show psychotic behavior, including violence. Individuals who experience manic episodes also commonly experience depressive episodes, or symptoms, or a mixed state in which features of both mania and depression are present at the same time. These events are usually separated by periods of "normal" mood; but, in some individuals, depression and mania may rapidly alternate, which is known as rapid cycling. Severe manic episodes can sometimes lead to such psychotic symptoms as delusions and hallucinations."
I was on lithium for a while and did minimal counseling sessions which pulled me out of my mania and depression. My dad softened some. He started trying to control his anger and rages. I went back to high school. Except for a core group of friends, most of my classmates avoided me. Once they found out I was manic depressive they shunned me like someone with a crazy contagious disease. I even had a teacher tell me I would never go to college. I did get involved in choir and the dance team which is where my core group of friends met me. Choir and dance were my lifelines. It was 1997 and High School wasn't so bad after all I thought.
That is until my mom nearly died from bacterial meningitis my senior year. She was so sick that she lost all of her motor skills, memory, and became blind in one eye. Before a big brain surgery the doctors called us in to speak with us about the possibility of death since the meningitis had gone undetected for so long. I had to miss a dance performance to go to it. My boyfriend at the time drove me and went with me to the meeting. I was a wreck. We went to Taco Bell after the meeting and a few "mean" girls from the dance team saw us there and told the dance teacher I just skipped the game to be with my boyfriend. No, he was literally taking care of me as my dad stayed by my moms side. He made sure I had food. My aunt kept my little brother. My dad lost his job due to missing work so he didn't have food or gas money to come home and take care of me plus he had to keep watch over my mom. The dance teacher kicked me off of the squad after 3 years of dedication. She just didn't believe me since there was also a situation before mom got meningitis where my parents stole my money from fund raising for dance and used it to buy us food. While my mom was sick, my parents missed my prom. I had no senior graduation party and didn't get senior pictures. We had no money. My parents were getting evicted. I was a hot mess and clung to my support which at the time was my boyfriend and his family.
My mom ended up having brain surgery and pulled through the meningitis. She had to learn to walk again and was left with some vision in one eye. My Dad learned to control his anger. I had been through so much and my boyfriend was my respite. I ended up getting pregnant and married right after graduation. I had a full ride scholarship but put college on hold while I was pregnant. I thought I would start college after the baby was born. But 29 weeks into the pregnancy I had a placental abruption and my placenta pulled away from my uterus. In 1998 My daughter was born by emergency c-section weighing 2 pounds and fighting to survive. We named her Savannah. She was almost 3 months premature and went without oxygen during the abruption. She also had a brain bleed which we were told would cause permanent brain damage. It did. She is blind, tube fed, has cerebral palsy, epilepsy, and can’t walk or talk. When she was born I became somewhat of a nurse and fed her through a tube in her tummy, gave her many daily meds or oxygen if needed, spent many nights in hospitals, watched her have seizure after seizure, and slowly realized she was not going to grow out of her disabilities as I had hoped and prayed. This led to putting her in an institution for children in 2004. She was six. I cried and cried over that decision. Now she is a 15 year old teenager - or rather would have been had she been born healthy. Mentally she is 6 months old. I changed her diaper for 6 years and the nurses still do it. Imagine having a 14 year old that is like a 6 month old; A child who doesn’t deserve all the hell her body has been put through.
Now I don’t see her very much. I break down when I see her fragile, skinny, hairy teenage body that doesn’t resemble the chubby cheeked sweet little girl I took care of for 6 years (with the help of some AMAZING nurses and family). Her beautiful long hair has been cut very short so it’s easier to take care of. I know some of you have lost a child and can say to me that at least I have my child here on this earth and I agree. But when I see her, I mourn for her every time. She’s not my pretty little 6 year old anymore. I know looks shouldn’t matter but if you could see her you would understand. She is long and skinny and her eyes have sunken in to their sockets. I feel like such a loser when people ask if I go see her. It’s just so painful and she doesn’t know who I am now and maybe never has.
I have considered bringing her home but she is so heavy and hard to transport. And really, who am I kidding? I can’t take care of her. I can barely take care of myself and Hunter. Some people say I’m not a good Mom. Well it’s not because I don’t try or don’t love enough. I feel like I gave Savannah so much time, love, and energy for 6 years that I burned out that strong part of me. Most babies grow up and have milestones. I am so envious of watching other people’s babies go through theirs. Especially little girls. I see the pics you all post of your daughters and I just wish I had been able to see Savannah become a teenager and do mommy/daughter things with her. I wish she would have been able to call me Mom. The sweetest sound was when Hunter said “Mom” for the first time. I love Hunter, and I still miss my Savannah. I notice things; like most of my family no longer go to see Savannah, only my Grandma Foist gets her a Christmas present, and I think back to the first time we took her to the institution. We were shocked when a nurse told us most families only come by at Christmas time. How could they be like that? Well now I know. It hurts my soul to see her looking so sickly and helpless. Maybe I’m selfish in that way. All I know is when I go see her I cry like I've lost her and the body in the bed is a stranger. Every time she gets pneumonia and is hospitalized I worry about her dying. I wonder if this is going to be the end.
Now I am trying to be thankful for all the nurses and special people who take good care of her. I try to be thankful for Hunter’s health and being able to be a Mom to him and watch him grow stronger every day. I urge all of you to be thankful for your healthy children even when they are driving you nuts. If your child isn’t healthy or you lost a child, you know all about it and I don’t know how you feel exactly but bless you. I write this to just share my feelings and not for pity. Maybe it will help someone else know they are not alone.
Through all of this, I was strong because I had no other choice. I did go back to college but it took me 4 years to complete 2 years of studies due to Savannah's health. I had to keep dropping classes every time she was hospitalized, which was often. However, I had enough schooling to get a job as a mall property manager. I was finally living a normal life. I was happily married, had a great well paying job that I loved. I had my healthy baby boy Hunter at home and Savannah was well taken care of in the pediatric facility. We were going to church and loved it. For the first time in a long time all was well. Then in 2005 the mall I worked at sold. The new owners were going to keep me on board then changed their minds when I had a Bipolar break down during the transition. I LOVED my job. But the stress of the transition broke me down. I had been strong for too long. I totally flipped my lid. I did things I am so embarrassed of now. I told my new boss I thought he was spying on me (paranoia!) and was rude to him. I had an impromptu meeting with a city leader that ended in disaster. I was telling him things that were just crazy. I was in a full blown mania at that point. I was also delusional and depressed at the same time. The delusional state lasted about a week. My then husband took off work to watch me and take care of me. I begged him not to take me back to a psych hospital due to what happened when I was 15. So he didn't. I finally snapped out of it. I had one two year job at Starbucks during a particularly good time in my life from 2006 to 2008. I also had a great boss who became my mentor. When I tried to quit once he wouldn't let me. I excelled in that job. Then they shut my store down...sigh. I have struggled to keep a job ever since. It's something I have always struggled with actually. I just got lucky with the mall and Starbucks and had amazing bosses who believed in me.
After 2008, depression was my best friend. I did nothing but sleep. I didn't keep the house up and I wasn't working. I wouldn't take my meds. My husband got fed up with me. We drifted apart and he didn't know how to handle my bipolar anymore. I didn't know how to handle feeling unloved because I couldn't work. After 13 years of marriage, we divorced in 2010. I don't like to be alone, so I found someone else rather quickly, Travis. But we had known each other in 2000 when my husband left me due to Savannah's issues. (My ex never dealt well with her but he is an amazing father to our son.) When my husband left me in 2000, I reached out to Travis. I was home alone with Savannah and heart broken. Travis and I met online. We didn't even know what each other looked like but we chatted for hours and fell in love. We met in person and fell deeper in love. Travis knew about my bipolar but he didn't care. He was on meds too and understood me. I was so happy. But then my husband decided he didn't want a divorce. So I broke up with Travis and went back to my husband since we had a child together. All those years I thought of Travis. I had no idea I would marry him 11 years later but I did. When we met again in 2010 after my divorce it was like no time had passed. I found Travis on Facebook and we rekindled our love. We had an Alice in Wonderland themed wedding on June 11th 2011. We are both bipolar but at first the "newness" of love surpassed our illnesses and we were SO happy. Since getting married, we have struggled. Travis struggled with anger more than anything and I struggled with depression. Due to my childhood and the way my Dad was, I can't stand anger. I almost left Travis due to his anger issues. He was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr, Hyde. He was either super loving or a super angry jerk. He worked on his anger and has now learned to bypass it. He read a book called "The Cow in the Parking Lot" that I bought him and that seemed to change him drastically. He is writing his own story for you so I will stop there and say we have now worked out most of the kinks in our marriage. We have been together for almost 3 years now. One of the things that brought us closer was my third major bout with Bipolar last year. It was the worst. I was delusional and in psychosis. I had to be admitted to the hospital psych ward again. It was so frightening because of what I went through at age 15 in the hospital. But luckily, things have changed.
My mom made sure they knew what type of experience I had at 15 and told them I had to be treated carefully or I would not do well. Travis knew I was terrified of being hospitalized again too. The hospital assured them that things have changed and nobody would make me shower or go to the bathroom in front of them. Travis will have to tell the story of my 9 days in the hospital because I don't remember much. All I know is that I fought against the treatment. I didn't want to do anything but go home. I was sent home earlier than I was ready because all I could focus on was getting out! Looking back, I wish I had not been so scared. They were all trying to help me. So now I am on meds and get regular therapy. I take my meds faithfully. I applied for social security disability for the third time and got approved. So now I am able to stay home. Travis is going back to school for computer science. I am so proud of him. I share 50/50 custody of my son Hunter so I have him every other week. I needed something to do so I started a Facebook page and blog. The rest of our story will unfold there. If you are interested, visit us at Facebook.com/MarriedAndBothBipolar or visit my blog at marriedandbothbipolar.blogspot.com
Love,
Staci Bontrager
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