ere we go again… the Cycle of Bipolar. Bipolar disorder, also known as manic depressive illness, is a brain disorder that causes sporadic mood changes. Lack of energy versus having an excess of energy. No motivation to carry out day to day tasks efficiently. Living with a parent who suffers from Bipolar Disorder can be extremely difficult as it challenges all aspects of your relationship with them. The upside of living with someone suffering from this illness gives you a deeper understanding of mental illness and certainly makes you a more compassionate person.

My Dad suffers from Bipolar 2, the less severe of the two types but can still be as debilitating. Sometimes it seems as though my dad has two personalities – like Jekyll and Hyde. Growing up living in such a mentally unstable environment was really confusing and upsetting as a child, as I didn’t know which dad I would be waking up to in the morning. One side of him is the most loving, caring, thoughtful father you could ever ask for. Just his smile and bright blue eyes could light up a room and could instantly fill you with love and happiness. The other side of him carries a black cloud above him, his eyes go grey with sadness and his heart goes black with depression and self-loathing. His moods are erratic and he could spend days or weeks in his room without any contact with my mum and I. During these episodes it felt best for him not to be present although the lack of my Dads presence really took a toll on myself and the family.

During manic episodes, my Dad’s animated behaviour was sometimes fun, yet other times just obnoxious. I can remember laughing uncontrollably for what felt like hours, at his jokes and stories about his past, leaving me in stitches. Shopping was another activity we enjoyed together – although my Mum would repeatedly suffer the shock and disbelief of the resulting credit card bills. My Dad’s Mania meant he suffered from Insomnia which often meant I did also. Unpredictability was the ‘norm’ in my routine. I would regularly awaken with me getting dragged out of my bed for a ‘night time adventure’ which usually just consisted of driving about meaningless places for hours. Dosing was impossible as my Dad’s train of thought was translating into a racing speech which was hard to compete with. This left me feeling drained and mentally exhausted. On the other hand, my Dad’s insensitive comments would cut through me like knife, leaving me feeling insecure and unloved. His antagonistic behaviour often resembled a school bully; unfortunately my school bully lived under the same roof as me, unable to escape the verbal abuse I endured daily. My first reactio