I’m not sure really how I can explain how lost I have felt since my diagnosis. The journey to finding myself again has not been an easy one. Being patient with myself hasn’t been easy either… knowing what I can do only makes me envy what I now can’t do, however I’d like to think with time, and with patience anything is possible.

This may be a myth or a trick of the mind however, but I’m hoping my faith in myself will outweigh the negative thought from the darker side of myself, because you see when they explain Bipolar to people on the outside, the family and friends… they can only reveal facts which may differ from person to person, no case is ever the same.

Yes it is true there are polar opposites, from quite severe deep ‘depression’ to the over the top ‘mania’ only few truly display… but there are many points in-between, I can only surmise that this is the only reason I was only diagnosed in 2008, when they didn’t have a choice but to look closer, as I was under section.

Even as a child I exhibited the traits, and my biological mother was diagnosed with the very same mental health diagnosis.

I never truly understood her as a child; I used to feel severe anxiety when we, my brother Matthew and myself went on access visits to Wolverhampton to see her. We found it funny at times, she would be happy, so much so that she would sing and skip through the streets and spend money like she was a millionaire, buying lavish gifts and telling us how she was going to have us back with her, and how we would never want for a thing.

Unfortunately this mood always changed quite severely, I never knew until recently why this happened. She would get very angry with me, and blame me for things I hadn’t done, punishing me… even hitting me on occasion. I was too young to understand, and whenever I spoke up about it, it was denied… they’d always believe her over me, I mean I was a child, why would I tell the truth?

Whenever I found myself getting angry, for no reason at all I hid away, ashamed of my actions. I knew when I saw myself in the mirror; my moods very much mirrored my mums.

I stopped going on access when I was 10 years old.

I refused point blank to visit as it was affecting me emotionally and physically. I would become quite ill, anxious, low, and have to be given medication to calm me. My brother Matthew however kept visiting, his relationship with our mum was so much more healthy… and no matter what I said, or how I reacted to his relationship with her, I feel it must have been quite evident that I was quite jealous of this.

You want your mum to love you… You want your mum to care. I wanted all my life for that, as I never knew my real dad.

I loved my foster parents so much, I called them mum and dad and asked at 10 years old for them to adopt me, so I could share their surname, feel secure, and truly loved unconditionally.

It took 5 years to become a fully-fledged Plenty, yet it made me so very happy to feel like an official member of the family who have shown me nothing but love. I was no longer a lost child, someone who didn’t belong… I was Katie Plenty, and I was most definitely found.

Don’t get me wrong; I cared for my real mum, I understood, as I got older why she was the way she was. She was a part of who I am, and in time I knew I would try again to forge a relationship, place the missing pieces of my puzzle. Every day I question… every day I don’t get the answers.

 

 

 

 

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