I believe that people with bipolar disorder shouldn’t drink. That being said, I think there are a lot of things that we shouldn’t do. And if we are honest with ourselves then we already know this. I do not drink. I have in the past in brief moments, and all of those times ended with disaster. But I have more of a history with drinking than that.
My mom and dad are alcoholics. I didn’t realize that until I was much older and I found out that some parents don’t drink all day and don’t pass out when they go to bed. That not all mom and dad’s spike their orange juice. Over the years, even though I no longer live with them, it has been reinforced for me just how much alcohol has a hold on them. The last time we were together they were drunk every night of the trip.
But my mom is bipolar. She swings from mania to depression all of the time. She is not medicated for it and she told me once that she knows she is an alcoholic but that she uses alcohol as a medication.
As a side note, I have found that when I mention to anyone that I think that drinking to excess is devastating to those around them, or that drinking for someone with bipolar can be destructive in their lives, or that I don’t want people to be drunk around me and my children, or that I will not allow alcohol in my home, or that I will not allow someone that has been drinking to drive myself or my children all hell breaks loose. Apparently that means that I am being judgemental, or that I am trying to control them. It is great that everyone is allowed to have an opinion as long as it is never different than anyone else. It is great that I am supposed to simply allow people to do whatever they want to around me and to me. But who said it has to be that way?
So, back to the story.
My grandma was an alcoholic. And she had bipolar disorder. She became very delusional toward the end. Psychotic. She thought that the neighbors were out to get her. That she was being spied on. She was collecting license plate numbers. I confronted her about her drinking so much that she was falling down and ending up in the hospital. I told her that I wanted to see her well. My mother did the same thing. Back then it was called an intervention. I have so many regrets about what I did. It wasn’t the right thing to do. I remember her screaming as I walked away from her hospital room, “But you are supposed to be a Christian.” I was so ignorant back then.
When Grandma got out of the hospital she went home and got her will and burned it as an act of protest for what we had done. Only problem was that she burned it in the middle of the living room on the carpet. So they carted her away to the funny farm. A place that I became very familiar with a year and a half ago. After three days they let her out, saying that she wasn’t a harm to herself or others. She then killed herself.
I hate seeing people drink because of the destruction it can cause in their lives. I think that mixing alcohol and bipolar is a bomb waiting to go off and igniting the fuse.