A Different Family

Hello! This blog post is an interview I conducted concerning my friend’s experience growing up with a (at the time undiagnosed) bipolar mom and an alcoholic dad who were divorced.

To begin the interview I asked my friend to explain some of her experiences growing up. She told me that when she was little growing up with an undiagnosed bipolar mom was difficult. She told me about how when her mom was in her manic episodes she would pack sugar cubes and flowers for her lunch. She told me that it was hard as a kid to try to explain why her mom did the things that she did, so she made jokes about the situation because she didn’t have the answer of why her mom did the things she did. She told me that when her mom was having depressive episodes, her mom would lock herself in her room, and would yell if she disturbed her. She told me that after a while she stopped talking to her mom about things because good or bad, her mom’s response would always be disappointing. Her dad wasn’t much better. Although he was more stable than her mother, he was an alcoholic which made her stressed to be living with him. She told me that as she got older, she started getting panic attacks and when she told her dad about them, he told her to “shut up, stop overreacting, and get over it.” Overall, she said it was like growing up and feeling like she was alone, and that most of the time, she had to be the one taking care of her parents, which was exhausting.

Hearing that was crazy to me because, despite the differences in our environments, I had gone through a lot of the same things. Like my friend, I had stopped telling my mom things. I did it because even if it was good news she would make me feel bad, and if it was bad she would make me feel worse. This was one of the reasons why I bottled up a lot of my emotions, because I was scared that if i let them out, I would be ridiculed by my mom. Also like my friend, the years spent trying to mediate my family, and basically be the “adult” caused me a lot of stress that I bottled up until it resulted in panic attacks. It was nice to know that someone knows exactly what I had been feeling growing up in these environments, despite our differences.

I also asked my friend about how she has bettered herself. She told me that she had been unknowingly walking around with pent up emotional trauma for years. She hadn’t told anyone about her childhood until she reached college and it all came spilling out. She told me that with the support of her friends, she started going to therapy which has helped her a lot. She said that going to therapy has helped her become more open about her emotions and experiences. Overall, it was amazing to hear about her progress, especially since the way she has been bettering herself was the same way I was. I hope that getting the chance to hear about someone else’s experience gives a new perspective on what dysfunctional families look like.