I’ve got to tell you, being able to make the amount of mistakes I’ve made in this short of time has got to be some kind of a record. The reason I did not remember the end of 2010 was because, from the time I miscarried in September of 2010 until the following Spring Break 2011, I was drinking and doing drugs, courtesy of Curt. It didn’t exactly help that Gypsy and I had begun the process of a custody battle in October…wait, did I miss my birthday?
But it wasn’t like people told me it would be. Whereas Curt and his friends would get completely hammered to the point of throwing up and passing out, I would only take enough to calm the anxiety in my head. I learned that I was happy and affectionate while intoxicated, and that I liked to do Science experiments whether I was sober or not (Yes, I blew up a lot of things. No, it was not part of the plan). I also learned that I had the holy grail of alcoholism: I don’t hang over. I did not require much to put me in a good mood, it didn’t take long for it to cycle out of my system, and I could wake up early and in good spirits despite how late I stayed up the night before. I was a lightweight, and because of this, I was not dependent on using more and more each time, and I never had to exceed my limits in order to enjoy it. When I realized just how easy it would be for me to do this for a long time, I got scared.
See, as a person with Bipolar Disorder, I know when I am not in my right mind. (of course, I wasn’t officially diagnosed until 2013) With most mental health patients, they don’t know when they’ve lost their mind; they’re convinced that whatever is in their heads must be the truth – but not me. I see it coming – yet, I am still powerless to stop it.
Imagine being the passenger of a car where everyone else is asleep – including the driver – and you’re headed full speed towards a brick wall. You can’t unbuckle, you can’t wake up the driver, and you can’t take the wheel. You see everything crashing around you, and you’re powerless to stop it. You are reduced to becoming just the voice in the back of your own head, screaming at yourself, “Wake up! Snap out of it!” – but you can’t. There’s no control. That is a Bipolar episode – for me, at least. I envy those who cannot recall their episodes – I don’t believe they suffer as much remorse
So understand that when I have drugs that relax me, calm the racing thoughts; silence the constant anxiety, compulsions, and impulses, my mind is finally free of every negative thought which accompanies them. I’m able to think about relaxing things. Happy things. Things that are important to me. I was able to think of all the love I had for my children, of everything in this world that I wanted to show them, give them, or see them explore. I thought of their smiles and laughs.
And I realized that, if I continue on this path with Curt, I’d likely never see them again. I knew that I no longer had use for him, that he could do nothing else for me or my kids, and that I had to leave him.
So I quit. Everything. Right then. (Spring Break was over by now, anyway)
Fast forward to May 2011, when we were in a…more-or-less…stable position. I didn’t like living in a trailer, but neither of us had good enough credit at the time to get anything worthwhile. So we dealt. Life was otherwise uneventful, but I was able to see my children, so I didn’t mind.
Problem was…I wasn’t right. Everything was hurting, my hormones were off balance. I thought….again? No, I thought. It must be in my head because I’m finally sober enough to process the miscarriage. I don’t remember what jobs we were working at the time – I think Curt was working for Little Caesars and I was at Waffle House. We lived near enough to stores and bus stops that we had no real transportation issues. Curt worked on the West side of the bridge, and we lived at the East edge of it. He wasn’t home, so it was the perfect time to double check – if nothing else, just to ease my racing mind. So I went to Dollar General, bought and took a pregnancy test, and waited.
Another positive. I passed out.