It is safe to say that I am half way through my ECT (Electro Convulsive Therapy). I am not feeling any relief yet. All I want is to be me again. Become the mum I know I can be. Bring back the confident, strong, funny person that people used to like to know, people used to have faith in my ability to run a small team of 25 and run it well. But I was struggling with the pressure and lack of mentor ship hand in hand with my insane instability paired with my in full flight bipolar disorder hypo-mania.
Over the last year when I finished up my last job I lost faith in myself, I lost me. This has become my swan song, broken, beaten, aching and lost. It doesn’t matter how great I am going Bi Polar Disorder bites me on the ass and puts its stink all over me.
I have a large family some of the family understand me and my disorder. Some of my family don’t want to even try and understand me and my bipolar struggles don’t even register in their time and space. I understand quite well regarding how I have behaved in the past with my family. When I was younger I was at war with my life. I had to learn to look after myself from a very young age. I was a reliable big sister and cousin. If I was needed I was there. I was always working and when I felt safe and secure I moved in to a friend’s place. She was older than me all her friend’s were older than me. She had and older brother and he had his best mate. I learnt quickly that you can’t live without money. I didn’t survive on much as long as I had my ciggies and my coke-a-cola and I had enough money to get me to and from school on the bus, and to work. I worked at KFC and I was working 5 days a week. I worked hard. I didn’t live with this friend long we found that we fought a lot like sisters which if you are living out of home you don’t want to be doing. We stayed friends for a long time it wasn’t until the first major event that I went through whilst working at KFC, it was this event I dare say it was this combustion, that started me on the splendid bipolar life that I am in.
I have never expected anyone friend or foe to understand what happened the night that KFC was held up. Those that worked that night remember the fear, the electricity in the air. I recap that evening every time I am in drive thru and I rarely go in the store just the slight chance I will be on the butt of a sawn-off shotgun again the risk is too high. It pains me to think that I have lost 15 years of my life to the drug f%@Ked idiot that to this day still makes my legs shake when I see the KFC sign. I learnt quickly that I’m not as strong as I thought I was. I have the demon that tormented me that night continuing to torment me on a near daily basis. I try and stay strong but KFC has adverts on the television. I live in a small town with only one KFC and I still get to see it 2 – 3 times a day. I try to keep the crying to a minimum or at least to when I am on my own as I try to stay super strong for my kids. It is horrible that I am still so broken after such long time ago. I will continue to try and make the right steps forward. I will keep trying to work through each demon in my head. I know where it is that I want to end up. Where I will be at the end and I want this to be my last lot of ECT, I need it to be the last time I put my body through the torment of the current and the ache in my bones.