I’ve often wondered if bipolar is the normal state of childhood. Since adulthood, I’ve never experienced the wild exhilaration nor the depths of despair I felt as a child. As Christmas approached, I’d be wild with anticipation: excitement at Christmas lights, sparkles of snow on Christmas Cards, and the trip to the woods for a Christmas tree had me near hysteria. By the time I was hustled off to bed Christmas Eve, sleep seemed impossible. It seemed I’d lie awake for hours, peeking often for a hint of light through the curtains, sure morning must be here. Finally, we’d wake Mother and Daddy for the most glorious day of the year. Inevitably, in the way of greedy children, once the joy of dismantling all that had been carefully prepared, I looked at the doll, stuffed monkey, rocking horse, tea set, red sweater, plastic box of barrettes and pearl bracelet from Grandma scattered among the wrappings and thought, “Is this all? I asked Santa for a pony, not a rocking horse! I hated dolls and tea sets and had never voluntarily worn a sweater nor brushed my hair.”
I was devastated, feeling I couldn’t go on, till Daddy told me to give Rocky, the Rocking Horse a try. He was a wonder on springs I could get some real action out of. Rocky and I were quickly moved to the porch where we could bounce without moving the furniture. Monkey and I must have ridden Rocky ten-thousand miles before I outgrew him. Oh yes, I eventually left Monkey out in the yard for the dogs to chew up. Mother found his dismembered body later but never told me the sad tale. I thought the doll and tea-set were a total waste till one of the neighbors died and I found out about funerals. I ditched the dishes and the box made a great coffin. We had a wonderful service for the doll. A lovely time was had by all.
Nutsrok 
The doll funeral…perfect solution. Genius. ☺
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More to come.
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Interesting post :) My opinion? I believe it is not until you become a parent do you realise how totally selfish and self-absorbed you were as a child.
Childhood has nothing to do with being bi-polar or mentally ill. It is all about pushing the boundaries and hopefully by the time you reach adulthood you’ve grown out of tantrums and sulking and thinking you are the centre of the universe.
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I agree 100%. Until I had children, my parents were monsters. Now I wonder why they never murdered us in our sleep.
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Haha😂
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You gave me a flashback – doll buried in a shoebox coffin, grave completed with cross made from ice-lolly sticks! Thanks!
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I hope you had plenty of hymns, preaching, and wailing like I did. I got all Mrs. Dick’s best roses, but that a story for another day.
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I don’t know about the childhood bi-polar thing. What I do know, is that, in childhood, emotions had free reign. The expression “you can never go home again” is true in this regard.
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As I write, I am working on going home. I find myself a fly on the wall. I am coming to understand my parents a lot.
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I’ve often wondered the same about childhood and bi-polarity! Mind you, my childhood was extremely up and down because my mother was bi-polar… :)
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My dad was. His day decided ours.
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Oh lordy. There’s a lot of it about!
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Indeed.
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