I thought I would share this great post by a fellow mum May Sams, discussing something I’ve been wondering about: when should I start talking to my children about my bipolar disorder? I hope you all find it thought provoking too!
Less than a week ago, I underwent eye surgery to remove a cataract I’d had since birth in my right eye.
In the lead up to the surgery, I was completely focused on the risks associated with the surgery: that I’d end up with no sight at all in my right eye or – even worse – that my ‘good’ left eye would be damaged.
Despite there only being a 1% chance of being left blind, this was enough to have me freaked out. What if I never saw my children or husband again? What if I had to give up a job I loved to stay at home – blind? What if I had to live in a bleak, dark world for the rest of my life?
I got so caught up worrying about the surgery, that I completely forgot to hope – or pray – for a miracle. When friends and family told me they were praying for my eye to be healed, I told them my surgeon said it was impossible to get sight back in that eye. Apparently if you can’t see out of one eye for long enough, your brain ‘switches off’ sight to that eye.
And yet, a miracle is exactly what I got. To the surgeon’s surprise, when my bandages were removed I could see out of my right eye for the first time ever! Five days later, I’m still in shock that I’m no longer blind in one eye.
This ‘miracle’ got me thinking… since I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, have I ever really believed that one day I could be healed of it? I’m not talking about stopping my medication to follow some unproven theory. But what if – in the years ahead – researchers somewhere discover the cause behind bipolar disorder or a permanent ‘cure’ for the condition?
Like my attitude before my eye surgery, I’ve never allowed myself to even think of what it would be like to be cured of bipolar disorder. No longer having to rely on daily medication, with annoying side-effects. No longer at risk of going too ‘high’ or ‘low’. No longer having to declare my condition on insurance or work forms. And – most importantly – no longer having to worry if I will pass this condition on to my children.
When you’ve lived with a condition for a long time, you tend to resign yourself to the fact that you’re always going to have it. I know I never expected to see out of my right eye again. If I’m honest – I don’t expect to ever be ‘cured’ of bipolar disorder.
And yet, it’s important to keep hoping for a cure… to keep urging the medical community to continue looking for answers and to keep praying for a miracle for the hundreds of thousands of people impacted by this condition.