My mother has done this three times so far. The "not sleeping" thing convinced her she was Jesus, and that it was lonely being God. At least, that was the second time, which happened when I was two or three. That's when my father decided he needed to ride it out because New Mexico being what New Mexico is, odds are good I would have ended up in the sole custody of a mother who got 5150'd for thinking she was Jesus.

The third time was when they put her on some med or other and she left my father and ran off with my now-step-father and we had no idea for a week and actually called the FBI on her because she was a missing person (didn't know about the now-step-father thing until about a week later). She did this while my short film was premiering in front of a sold-out audience in a thousand-seat theater, of course.

in between was a lifetime of self-medication, irrational behavior and abuse. "Mom must have had a shitty day, she's threatening to kill the dogs again." "yeah, I can't pick you up this morning, my mother hid our cars." "Yeah, I went to see Ishtar in theaters, the alternative was watching my mother break all our dishes one by one."

She finally acknowledged that she was bipolar about the time I turned 33. So that was nice. So far she's had care discontinued by two shrinks for failing to comply with recommendations (they think she oughtta go in-patient because she's not just crazy, she's shithouse-rat crazy).

GUESS WHAT I'M SAYING IS THIS:

Don't waste your time trying to fucking explain and/or wrap your head around your irrationality. Speaking as a survivor of fucking manic/depressive/bipolar/narcissistic/substance abuse bullshit, anybody you actually care about just needs you to try to rejoin the human race.

I have been subjected to hundreds of hours of rationalization of other peoples' craziness and you know what? No fucks given. They were crazy. They acted crazy. I wasn't. I didn't. And you know what? One of us knows the other was crazy, knows that attempts at rationality failed, and knows that if the other could get their shit together we'd all be in a better place but it just didn't work out that way.

You forget - we're not crazy. We know that you think you're making sense. We know that it was super frustrating that you didn't. We know that it made you scared and isolated. But we're still talking to you, we still love you, and we're just trying to get this ship righted.

The more time you dwell in "here's why I capsized, no really it makes sense" the more we see you pushing on the mast.

I have had trained medical professionals assure me that selfishness and narcissism are hallmarks of bipolar disorder and that, as a survivor of such, I owe it to the sufferer to accept the fact that I am a peripheral in their life, that the occasional sops of interest and attention thrown my way should somehow count more, and that it's okay for someone to make everything about them because they're "sick."

Fuck that.

People will extend their loved ones nearly infinite goodwill. Illness is the fault of no one and we are often exposed to tragedy beyond our control. But it takes a true dumbass to excuse emotional abuse by an ill person when that illness is radically injurious to well-being.

I'm sorry you went crazy. Stop trying to un-crazy it. Do the work, take your meds, reflect and be the best family member you can to your family. They'll give you every chance to come back and will almost never call you on your bullshit, but there will come a time when they have no more fucks to give.

My advice to you is to never let it get that far.