So, Sunday morning things seemed to get worse at home. My dad and I got in a screaming match on our way to Church, and it wasn't very pretty. It took a good 15 minutes for me to compose myself and look presentable enough to actually go into church once we arrived. I was pretty sure that was going to mark the end of any chances I had of not only keeping any part of our relationship alive, but of getting them to understand where I'm coming from on the way things go in the house, and the problems that need to be fixed (which, ironically enough, was what started the fight in the first place).

Church was well, it was a hard hitter. The sermon really struck home with me, because it was almost like the entire thing was meant for me. The topic was Arrows of Destruction, and it was seven or eight 'qualities' that cause us to stumble not only in our Christian walks, but also in relationships with anyone in our lives. I'd say about three-quarters of the arrows pertained to me. And so I listened intently, while writing a letter to my dad trying to explain what I was trying to say, and why I was getting all defensive. A letter I knew that, God-willing, I wouldn't actually have to give to him.

By the end of the service, dad was totally cool, and brought up zero mention of our fight. Didn't even tell mom about it over lunch, or corner me when mom left to help at the senior's home, and it was just he and I left at our house. Of course, they talked about it when I went out for coffee with a friend, but it was a good thing they did.

The drive back to Toronto was when they brought up the issues at hand. Much to my surprise, they started with a topic that hadn't even been part of the argument, a topic that I have been praying and begging God to show to them how I feel for years. And that was about how they feel towards me, as their daughter. I've never believed they don't love me, I know they do. But for the last several years, I have felt like I'm nothing more than a disappointment and disgrace to them, and that they could not be proud of me no matter what I do. Part of that is my fault for misunderstanding things they've said, but part of that is their fault, because they don't tell me when they're proud of me, proud of my accomplishments. I hear so much of the negative, that it's difficult to believe and convince myself they have positive thoughts about me.

And so, the conversation started off with them telling me that even though I've screwed up a lot since leaving home, and that I've made mistakes, that they couldn't be prouder of me for the accomplishments I've made. They brought up about how they had been super skeptical about me taking journalism, especially since prior to the end of high school, I had shown zero interest in it. They didn't think I could do it because of both my shy personality, and my lack of skills in the area. Yet, I wanted it, I went for it, and I proved that not only did I want it more then anything, but that I could do it, and was good at it. They explained to me that it would be impossible for them to not be proud (which of course made me start to cry in the back seat... thank goodness for it being night).

When the conversation moved to what the fights were about, despite my wanting to jump in and defend myself, I simply listened and took in what they had to say. When they finally let me speak, I was completely shocked when they not only listened to everything I explained to them, but heard it.

The conclusion of the discussion was a good one. I explained to them that especially because I'm off my meds now, I don't necessarily know all the side-effects of being bipolar. I'm still learning what happens in the manic stages, and in my brain when I get upset, or have anxiety attacks, or get angry. I told them that I realize a lot of the times I may not be understanding or seeing a situation the way it really is happening, but that is why more then anything, I need them to listen when I say how I see it, and how I feel about it, because I can't know where I'm going wrong unless they can point it out to me. I also explained the long running problem of how our arguments escalate... generally I get upset and start getting very defensive and argumentive, and don't listen to what they are saying. I explained how it's not because I think they're wrong or because I don't want to hear that I'm wrong, it's because when I get upset, and when they come at me with a situation where I probably know I'm wrong, or even just a topic that upsets me, I can't think. It's like my brain shuts down and I start running head first into a wall. Becuase of that, I get very frustrated, and so as soon as dad raises his voice, I get angry, because I can't even process what's going on. So we decided that when I start getting upset in any discussion, I'm to throw up my hands, if I'm at a point where I can't speak, or if I'm able to, just to say I need time alone, and they will give me that time to go, sit in my room, write out all my thoughts as to why I'm upset and calm myself down, so that we can have the conversation when I'm thinking clearly again.

It's going to be hard, very very hard. Battling this without meds is incredibly difficult, because I don't have a mental buffer anymore. My parents are thinking of sending me to see a psychiatrist so I can have someone to talk to, and that they will only make me go back on meds as a last resort. But, unlike several days ago, I'm feeling more confident about overcoming it, and being able to live at home happily and comfortably, because now, my parents are on my side. While they still don't fully understand what my problem does to me, they know enough to be able to help me in situations that I cannot control. I think that will be what makes all the difference in the long run.