Living with a Bipolar Bear

My father is Bipolar. Recently I have been wanting to write a blog, but I didn't know what I wanted to write about. It was only until this morning that I realized I wanted to write about my life and what it is like to live with a father who is bipolar. My life hasn't been easy but through the help of my Savior and the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, I have been able to handle it. My father is an amazing man! He teaches me so many things, protects me, and loves me! I love him!
A friend on my mom's wrote this poem about living with a bipolar father. She calls it "Living with a Bipolar Bear." This poem has given me hope during hard times in my life, which is why I named my blog after it. I will reference this poem throughout my blog.

Living with a Bipolar Bear - by Kendra Fowler

I'm never quite sure, coming home from dance,

who'll be in Dad's chair? I'm taking a chance.

"Which bear is in there?" I wonder each time.

I tiptoe closer, and look for a sign.

Do his eyes sparkle, without any care?

Or do they darken and fade to a stare?

At time he is cheerful, we tumble and play.

But sometimes he grumbles and sends me away.

He hibernated deep down inside his dark cave.

I shout, "Please, wake up! I will behave!"

What if my room's clean, with no toys to see?

Would he be happy and not growl at me?

But even on days when things are just right,

he comes home from work and gives me a fright.

Sometimes it's too much to have me around.

He yells and rumbles at each little sound.

Why is it one day the things that I do

are cut and funny, he laughs at a few?

Next day, the same things just make him upset.

I want to roar back, "Now, see what you get."

It isn't easy to live with a bear.

Sometimes it seems like it just isn't fair.

His sharp claws come out. He can't seem to smile.

Crawls back in his den, curls up in a pile.

My dad needs a sign to make me beware,

like one at the zoo, "Don't feed the bear."

Perhaps then I'd know if this was the day

it would be best to just stay away.

When I'm his princess, he takes me to dine.

Blows his straw at my nose, I giggle and Shine.

We talk and play ball. I think he's the best.

He listens and smiles. I forgive all the rest.

He dances with Mom when dinner is slow,

and sings really loud to the radio.

So, what makes him change? I can't really say.

It's not that he likes it or wants it that way.

It's not up to me to let in the light.

The things that I do don't make it all right.

Dad loves me a bunch and wants me to know,

when the storm goes away, I'll see the rainbow.

I wait for the sun to push through the cloud.

It's scary for him to join in the crowd.

We've learned what it is that makes him feel bad;

his moods jump around, from happy to sad.

He's will to fix the problem inside.

With doctors and help, he won't have to hide.

Knowing the illness along with its name,

gives comfort to me. There's no one to blame.

I love him and say that it's pretty rare,

to live with my very own Bipolar Bear.

I love this and am grateful for the woman who wrote this! I can connect to it in so many ways! I am grateful for my Savior, who has been there for me to turn to for my entire life! I love my Savior! and my Dad!