I love honesty. Once I started fully embracing open honestly, it really changed my life. I try to say whatever I would if I were drunk in a situation, only with better words and gentler if need be.
There are a few situations where I don't spontaneously volunteer information and generally stick to yes or no answers.
One of those situations would be around my family.
Once upon a time, one of my very close cousins was dating a boy who was bipolar and to hear my grandmother complain about him and the relationship was quite grating. Especially since her sister in law was also bipolar.
"I really don't know how anyone can have a relationship with a bipolar." She'd said.
They don't know my beloved bipolar was diagnosed. They don't know my adorable Bubbles goes manic sometimes.
If they asked, I would tell them, but I'm not randomly bringing it up because if they did know because I suspect they would attempt to violate all sorts of HIPA. I'm sure they wouldn't believe me anyway because they attributed strange things to my great aunt's bipolar, and not necessarily the things they liked about her, like her decorating skills.
I often wonder if the price of their relationship is worth it to me. They cost me a lot of stress.
I'm sure a lot of people wouldn't believe my very sane husband and daughter are bipolar.
One of my husband's little brother is also diagnosed as bipolar, and their father believes his teenage angst and anger is the bipolar part, not his passionate bouts of drawing.
Their father is also probably bipolar, but without a diagnosis. He would be absolutely shocked if someone mentioned that he might be bipolar.
He also doesn't know that my beloved bipolar was diagnosed.
They don't know.
They wouldn't understand if we told them and I think the average person wouldn't either.
I guess that's why I started this blog.