An Apartment Full of Bipolars- humor

In the title I promised humor, but let it be known right now that this is all very very true… and going on as I type.

Three bipolar women walk into a room…

In this life as a mother, I get to have my daughter over every other weekend. On these weekends there are exactly three bipolar women in a small condo/apartment. My mother was diagnosed in the ’80’s, me, and my daughter diagnosed this year. On any given day we will always, without fail, set it all off…

Today my mother over and over told stories of how her parents loved her sister more. My daughter went through half a dozen major swings in mood (from laying around sad to doing jumping jacks in the main hallway) and me… I am just sitting here watching it all in a fog induced by insomnia from my current manic episode.

Yes, she was counting out jumping jacks in the main hallway.

She got so amped up at one point this morning that she ran out of the apartment and started doing jumping jacks in the hallway and then proceeded to bounce up and down for half an hour. Blissfully (merely because I am physically too exhausted to keep up) she lay down later for a movie.

I put my head down next to her, hoping to catch a few ZZZZZzzzz’s during the cartoon movie…

MOMMY I NEED TO EAT RIGHT NOW!!” Followed by jumping on the bed until I pulled her off.

Now, to explain something, my mother is a very quiet person. She sits and watches her tv. It’s not a good idea to make too much noise, because then she has to rewind it and play it all over again. My daughter takes advantage of this time to start running around trying to “catch an invisible wild bird” that she is pretending flew into the living room.

My sweet angel is racing back and forth, all around the living room and kitchen. Back and forth. Fast and loudly calling, “Come back here birdy!”

My mother twists and sighs.

My sweet angel continues this and then adds to it with a song and dance and turns it all into her own kindergarten opera.

My mother turns red…

My dear sweet angelic rose now is sweating and red and panting but not stopping. In fact she is speeding up.

My mother turns purple…

So I do the only thing that you can do to diffuse the situation…

I got on Twitter.

Oh come on, not funny? Man I thought it was hilarious. What was I going to do? I could walk outside where it is cold and windy or ignore it!


Have you ever tried to stop a roaring freight train?

My point exactly.

Current status of household:

My daughter is pacing by the door waiting for her friend to come get her… in thirty minutes.

My mother is watching a rerun from NCIS that I think I have memorized by now.

Me? Oh you know what I’m up to! I’m doing 12 things at once, my heart is racing, and I am waiting impatiently for the moment I can shut my eyes for five minutes and rest. I am so exhausted that I ache, but my brain is racing and I could run a marathon.

I will let you know when the last string breaks…

Update: it is now about 6am here. My house of bipolar women are asleep, and I am halfway there…

3 thoughts on “An Apartment Full of Bipolars- humor”

  1. Oh man did I find that funny! I can also relate.. LOL My girls are teenagers now but believe me we had some times just like that.. and of course we still do.. LOL Funny thing is I do what you do, I go socialize on twitter or somewhere and watch it go down till I cant take anymore… LOL Love your sense of humor!! I am following you now.and Thanks for following me!!

  2. Growing up with a bipolar parent, things were just out of hand. CANNOT imagine 3 bp women in 1 place (small at that) at 1 time. Sheer pandemonium! No wonder you’re writing at 6 am – finally have a bit of peace and quiet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s