Kayla and I have been talking on the phone this last week or two. Ever since I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, she has expressed a desire to come home to be with me. All our past struggles have a new light shed on them. She knows me from the inside, out and knows that if I had the power to manifest into reality the man I intend to be on the inside, our lives will be so much better. That's the problem with me now is that I have no idea what is going to come out of me in any situation. My intended effect rarely comes to fruition.
When I am having a manic episode, I don't have access to my prefrontal lobe which manages my conscience, my judgment and my ability to see the big picture. In other words, I'm not aware of the possible consequences of my words or actions. In the past, Kayla was under the impression that I did bad things because I don't care about her or my family. We're both coming to find out that I do care, I just don't always know how to put my good intentions into action.
Looking back on my life, I think my mom is bipolar, as well as my grandmother before she died (I'll let that one slide this time, Captain Obvious. Just stay on your meds!). The doc says that this shit is congenital or whatever word means that it runs in the family. I think that since they are both Korean, their parents didn't have it diagnosed because it would bring shame to the family.
I think the same might have happened to me. Evidence of that would be the fact that I was raised right-handed even though I was born left-handed. In turn, I've become neither-handed or quasi-dexterous if you will. A side-effect of that is that you can always tell what activities my parents taught me and which ones I taught myself. If I do it with my right hand, it's because they made me. If I do it with my left hand, I discovered it on my own. The most obvious example being my Rosy left Palm.
Also, my dad deliberately didn't teach me Chinese growing up because he didn't want me to have a Chinese accent. I remember going to a speech therapist as a child. I guess I developed the ability to talk later than my parents would have liked. To avoid embarrassment in front of their friends, they had to nip that little problem in the bud by shelling out what ever cash it took. They've always told me I'm a late bloomer. They never had me diagnosed with anything. I think I might have been helped out immensely in a Special Needs classroom or, at least, with proper therapy and/or medication growing up. As it is, I just grew up thinking everyone else was smarter and better than I am.
To this day, I still feel that way, but I'm at least able to start on the road to healing since I've been diagnosed. I'm not stupid, just chemically imbalanced. Growing up, my two least favorite words were, "It's easy!" That's all I ever heard from my parents when faced with the challenge of being unable to perform whatever task was at hand. Math problems, riding a bike, driving a car, being in school, etc. I would watch everyone else breeze through like it was nothing while I struggled just to stay behind. All for the sake of my parent's dignity in front of friends they don't even really care about.
Friends to them are just someone to boast to when your kid goes to MIT. Friends are someone you have to send a Christmas card to so they'll keep paying attention to you. Friends are someone you tell that your son went to Harvard to hide the fact that he only went to the University of Arizona. It took me four and a half years to graduate with a double major, but I was chastised because it should have only taken me four years. Of course, to them it was a waste of time because I didn't become a doctor or a lawyer.
Shit, this blog was supposed to be about the good news that Kayla is coming home and it somehow devolved into this rant about my childhood. You see, I'm never sure what's going to come out of me. 'Live Deliberately' is gonna be my new motto. That's how you build trust. When you say you're gonna do something, you do it. I've had the right intentions all along, now is the time for my actions to reflect that.
When I am having a manic episode, I don't have access to my prefrontal lobe which manages my conscience, my judgment and my ability to see the big picture. In other words, I'm not aware of the possible consequences of my words or actions. In the past, Kayla was under the impression that I did bad things because I don't care about her or my family. We're both coming to find out that I do care, I just don't always know how to put my good intentions into action.
Looking back on my life, I think my mom is bipolar, as well as my grandmother before she died (I'll let that one slide this time, Captain Obvious. Just stay on your meds!). The doc says that this shit is congenital or whatever word means that it runs in the family. I think that since they are both Korean, their parents didn't have it diagnosed because it would bring shame to the family.
I think the same might have happened to me. Evidence of that would be the fact that I was raised right-handed even though I was born left-handed. In turn, I've become neither-handed or quasi-dexterous if you will. A side-effect of that is that you can always tell what activities my parents taught me and which ones I taught myself. If I do it with my right hand, it's because they made me. If I do it with my left hand, I discovered it on my own. The most obvious example being my Rosy left Palm.
Also, my dad deliberately didn't teach me Chinese growing up because he didn't want me to have a Chinese accent. I remember going to a speech therapist as a child. I guess I developed the ability to talk later than my parents would have liked. To avoid embarrassment in front of their friends, they had to nip that little problem in the bud by shelling out what ever cash it took. They've always told me I'm a late bloomer. They never had me diagnosed with anything. I think I might have been helped out immensely in a Special Needs classroom or, at least, with proper therapy and/or medication growing up. As it is, I just grew up thinking everyone else was smarter and better than I am.
To this day, I still feel that way, but I'm at least able to start on the road to healing since I've been diagnosed. I'm not stupid, just chemically imbalanced. Growing up, my two least favorite words were, "It's easy!" That's all I ever heard from my parents when faced with the challenge of being unable to perform whatever task was at hand. Math problems, riding a bike, driving a car, being in school, etc. I would watch everyone else breeze through like it was nothing while I struggled just to stay behind. All for the sake of my parent's dignity in front of friends they don't even really care about.
Friends to them are just someone to boast to when your kid goes to MIT. Friends are someone you have to send a Christmas card to so they'll keep paying attention to you. Friends are someone you tell that your son went to Harvard to hide the fact that he only went to the University of Arizona. It took me four and a half years to graduate with a double major, but I was chastised because it should have only taken me four years. Of course, to them it was a waste of time because I didn't become a doctor or a lawyer.
Shit, this blog was supposed to be about the good news that Kayla is coming home and it somehow devolved into this rant about my childhood. You see, I'm never sure what's going to come out of me. 'Live Deliberately' is gonna be my new motto. That's how you build trust. When you say you're gonna do something, you do it. I've had the right intentions all along, now is the time for my actions to reflect that.
I just love your new motto and the progress I see your're making in yer life now, I'm so very proud of you!
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