Life is hard on us sometimes. We all have a book in the series we call life. Some are tragic, others are happy, and some are somewhere in between. Nevertheless, none are less important than the other. Everyone faces challenges. The worst of mine I’ve faced ever since I was born. Bipolar disorder is my biggest challenge. I was diagnosed with it at age six. Bipolar is basically the ability to feel and quickly switch between the high and lows of emotion. Imagine my emotions like a broken faucet. Once you turn it on, it won’t stop. The water level just keeps rising until it overflows the sink and floods the countertops. My emotions are the faucet, and my mind is the overflowing sink. All I’d ever wanted when I was younger, was to be ‘normal’, because no one liked someone who was different.

When I was little, parents would tell their kids not to play with me once they found out about my disorder. I didn’t understand it when I was younger and my friends were all leaving me. Some even began to bully me. I was confused, angry, and hurt. It was especially hard, because I thought I’d done something wrong. Afterall, if they were all leaving, then I must be the problem. I was six years old when I first realized I was alone. 

By the time my parents had pulled me out of the school, the damage had been done. I was scared to ask for help, unable to make friends, and constantly lashing out due to the overload of emotions. I was angry at the world. I felt cheated and slighted by life. I had lost some of my naivety, and my new school was a picture of perfect innocence. In said picture, I was the blurry splotch in the background. The only imperfection, but one that’s hardly noticeable unless you really looked. I continued to lash out and I was known as a trouble maker. I barely made it through elementary school without getting kicked out, but, by some miracle, I did get through. I went on to middle school.

 My parents sent me to a Lutheran private school in the hopes of me meeting nicer kids. Unfortunately, this school has biased teachers that influenced the students. My teacher called out my bipolar in front of the entire class. She blamed me for everything. I was trying to be a good kid at first. I was trying so hard. I didn’t do anything abnormal, but if everyone was talking, she would tell me to be quiet. If everyone was goofing off, she’d tell me to calm down. Every time, I was the one she seemed to blame for the entire class misbehaving. The students caught on and started to avoid me, tease me, and mock everything I did. I was hurt. I had been trying so hard to do the right thing, but, yet again, I had somehow wound up labeled as a troublemaker. It wasn’t long before they kicked me out for having an Asthma attack. Halfway through the year and unenrolled in a school, my parents sent me to a Catholic school with the same intentions as before. It ended in disaster. 

I was broken, hurt, angry, and lost. My morals were drowning me. I didn’t know what was right and what was wrong. I was scared of doing the wrong thing. The mere thought of socializing brought anxious tears to my eyes. There were times in class when I would put my head down and stop responding when my emotions got too strong. I was an outcast. The other students were cruel - even going as far as to tell me ‘God doesn’t make mistakes, so he didn’t make you’ to insinuate that I was made by the devil. Despite forgetting many faces and names, most of their cruellest remarks have stuck with me. The stinging pain from each one still lingers. Eventually, I got kicked out of that school, too.

The rest of my middle school was spent at a school for troubled children. That might sound horrible, but in reality this was one of the best schools I’d ever been to. There was some irony to be found that the ‘bad’ kids were so much nicer than the ‘good’ kids. The teachers were actually actively trying to help me and, by the end of middle school, I was a better person. That meant I had to leave. I said goodbye to all the friends I made and began the search for a new school. 

I knew public school wasn’t an option. It was too big and overwhelming. My parents, doctors, and the teachers from my previous school agreed. Thus, I searched for something new. I went to many schools, but most turned me down the moment they heard I’d gone to the troubled kids’ school. Then, we found a Montessori high school. That’s where I went for a year and a half. This school was okay the first year, but this year there was a lot of bullying. Around Christmas time, I found the best school yet. 

My current school is on a college campus. It has 30 students, and five teachers. It uses a mix of different methods to create the best learning style they can come up with. Students are all well behaved and kind. I haven’t witnessed or experienced any bullying.  I am accepted for who I am and I’m happy. I’m looking at colleges, acting in plays, doing more in Job’s Daughters, and doing babysitting jobs. My grades are great and I finally have the one thing I always dreamed of - friends. I even have a best friend and she joined my youth group. 

Life is hard on us sometimes. We all have a book in the series we call life. Some are tragic, others are happy, and some are somewhere in between. If there’s anything that I’ve learned from this experience, it’s that I can write my own book of life, and mine will have a happy ending.