Bipolar?

Do you ever feel like you might be bipolar? I know that I do all the time. And it is a question that I ask my therapist often, praying that the answer is still, "No, don't be silly. You are NOT bipolar. This is all just the normal ebb and flow of emotions. Especially emotions following the trauma that you have been through." Yikes...I hate that word. Trauma. I know that my family has been through a trauma...or maybe even a mini-series of traumas. I have been told by many people that I should sell my story to someone and make millions off of the amazing chain of events that have happened in our lives. Or, maybe I'll just stick with this blog and my maybe two readers that keep up with it. Ha! OK, back to being bipolar...hmm...maybe I'm ADHD also!! The range of emotions and feelings that I run through at any given time make it seem like I am bipolar. My blog posts are probably amazing evidence of this. Just yesterday, I was posting warm fuzzies regarding my truck and how excited I am to drive. Today was also good and happy. I had a doctor appointment that I may blog about later, but I feel that every day I'm getting closer and closer to answers that will "fix" me. I had some anxiety with a good friend for a few days and that was resolved with the resolution that I was hoping for. Dinner time was the best! I came home, didn't really want to cook, packed the girls into the truck and headed to McDonalds. I drove...to McDonalds...and we sat in the PlayPlace for over an hour and played and laughed and ate and had a marvelous time. I took tons of pictures and we rejoiced that we can do normal activities again! I texted my sister pictures of the girls at McDonalds and just said, "It's amazing the things that you take for granted until they're gone." We got all philosophical and emotional for a bit, and then we started the trek home for homework, bath, and bedtime routine. And that's when things started going downhill. Emerson cried most of the way home because she noticed the three other families at the Play Place that had a mommy and a daddy. She didn't think it was very fair that we didn't have a daddy. And that conversation started. Why did daddy die? How did daddy die? Why can't I bring daddy back? Why do we have to be without a daddy? I think I've blogged before that I wasn't prepared for Emerson to go through this. I don't know why and I feel like stupid mom for not thinking about that, but she is having emotions about this and it's so so hard! It was hard when I did it with Amelia...to a point. Amelia just sort of accepted it and moved on. She frequently talks about how thankful she is to live in a house of girls and how she loves our family of three. But with Emerson, this is different. She has no memory of Brian. Emerson was born in April of 2010. Brian died in October of 2010. She was six months old. She does not remember her father, other than from a few pictures and stories that Amelia tells. And her grief and this whole process feels very different to me than it did with Amelia. And it's hard on mommy too. Amelia is going through a tough time at school. It's not really related to this, but then it's also hard to not think that of course it's related to this. Just as I feel I am bipolar, I'm sure the range of emotions that hit my girls throughout any given day is difficult as well. So, when Amelia has a hard time at school, it makes me question everything that is going on. I know that she's allowed to have tough days, but as a mom of little ones who are growing up short a parent, PLUS having that growth compounded by grief and trauma, I often over analyze everything. Why is Amelia having a hard time? What is going on at school? What is she thinking about? What is she trying to process? What is happening in her little brain? It's exhausting to predict all of that, and sometimes I just can't. It can be a full-time job trying to anticipate the needs of a six year old that has been through what she's been through. So, I was not surprised when she asked to go straight to bed after we were finished with our 30 minutes of reading. She fell asleep almost immediately. I kissed her forehead and moved onto the next room. She was laying down crying softly to herself. "Emmy? What's wrong?" "I'm so sad and I don't know why." "Is it because of daddy? I know you were sad that we don't have a daddy. Is that why you're sad?" "Yes. I want daddy to come back." "I know..." "It's not fair that my friends at school all have daddies." (This is true, by the way. I am the only single parent in her preschool class which is hard on both of us apparently.) "I am so sorry that you don't have a daddy. I wish you did." And then the questions started all over again. Why did daddy die? How did daddy die? Why didn't he stay with us? Why did his heart stop? Didn't he love us anymore? And I lay next to her and answer them the best I can, knowing that I will never be able to make this ok to her. Knowing that anything that I say isn't going to help. But I do the best I can. And I try not to feel bipolar. And I try to stay strong in spite of the sadness and grief and anger that fill my own heart. Death and trauma are not simple things. There is no simple explanation for my little girls. This is true at 3 and 6, but I feel like it will also be true at 23 and 26. Many of the conversations with my therapist revolve around when is it a good time to bring up (insert death, dying, trauma topic here) to my girls? And there is no right or wrong answer. My therapist always tells me "you'll know" and I suppose with divine intervention and incessant prayers I will know. God usually gives me the words to say to my little three year old when she asks "Why did daddy die?" and I have faith that he will continue to give me the words and strength I need at the exact moment I need them. And I've learned it's OK to feel bipolar. It's part of the grief process that we go through. And it sucks. There's no other way to say it. It sucks. It sucks as a wife. It sucks worse as a mom because you experience it on your own level, and then again on a tiny level. But it's important to go through. So, we plunge forward. Pray. Hope. Carry on. And make going through life without a daddy as normal as possible. It's ok to feel bipolar. It's ok to run the whole range of emotions. The trick to noticing growth and healing is observing more peaks than valleys. Knowing that the driving of the truck, and the happy moments and memories we are creating will far outweigh the tears over being a house of all girls. We had a rough patch tonight. But, the girls in this house are tough and we move forward. And we will laugh again because as Amelia points out often, who needs stinky boys anyway?