I grew up with a big bear of a man as a father. He was big and scary when angry, yet soft, sweet, and cuddly when in a good mood. He drank and did drugs, which I didn’t recognize until I was an adult. He regularly told me things like “What the hell is wrong with you?”, “You can’t do anything,” “You’ll never be accepted if you act like that,” and “Don’t speak unless spoken to.”
My mom was distant and cold towards me but loving and protective of my brother. She regularly told me, “Shame, Shame, you know your name.” She was harsh and believed that females should be submissive. I grew up believing, as I still do today, that she didn’t want me.
Even with all the negativity around me, I grew up with a high self-esteem. I thought that I was smart, loving, friendly, supportive, and everything that I should be, but I also thought no one else would ever see that. I grew up thinking that I was invisible to those around me and that no one would ever see how amazing I was.
My mom taught me that, as a female, I should never be smarter than a man, that I shouldn’t be as capable as a man, and that I should rely on men rather than myself. But my father taught me to be capable and independent, to not rely on anyone else for anything. I took my dad’s lessons to heart more than my mother’s. I grew up to be independent, self-reliant, smart, capable, and inquisitive.
My Bipolar and Me 