When DD's psychiatrist said, "I know what this is. She's bipolar." I felt a weight lift off my shoulders - at last, a diagnosis - and another, heavier one take its place. Bipolar. What the hell does that mean?
So far, it means that my kiddo will be on medication for the rest of her life, she will have ups and downs that may or may not be preventable, and we are going to get to explore all the levels of hell while we are alive.
It also means that my darling might become incredibly successful at whatever it is she might want to be. Right now, I'm holding on to that. If we can just get her through her childhood, which, as I read last night, is the worst possible time period for a bipolar person, then we will have been successful parents. Great. Another level of hell.
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