Defined by Bipolar

An introduction to the Bipolar Mind, and who she is…

by a Not-so-Anonymous Means

I feel like I have written and rewritten these words a thousand times. I have imagined these words in countless multitudes, and each time a different version is born. New words, new paths, and new imaginings. A multitude of possibilities, each one possessing a thousand new beginnings, a thousand fresh starts; always and always new words. Each new possibility brings with it the promise of a new beginning, the ideology that anything can shift your life onto another course, to launch you from one chapter to the next. And yet, each version lays unfinished on the tethers of my mind to be forgotten on the winds of tomorrow. Each thought flits away at the end of each night and the morning brings fresh new beginnings; fresh new thoughts, fresh new starts. Always looking forward and always in perpetual motion. There is never a pause in this life; there is never a redo, a take-back or a repeat. There is only forward, an unknown future that holds a thousand possibilities as the sun rises over the horizon. What does she bring in her wake? What will the days hold as life continues to revolve around what we do not know? The thought of new fresh beginnings should be exhilarating and thrilling, for the promises that can be felt on the future winds of tomorrow. But what happens when forward only strikes fear in you. When forward is not where you wish to go? What if the future, grey and unknown as she is, only builds anxiety for fear of the unknown?


Each thought brings me to a new path, a new point in the endless line of moments, each springing life into the next sequential movement. The cannabis that I breathe in slowly and exhale with pure joy, fills me with the creativity and productivity that I need to write this down. To give to you, faceless as you are, this anonymous message built from all the corners of my mind. Like the pieces of a puzzle slowly falling together into understanding. Over the years a blackness has shrouded the pathways of my memories, and the more Indica I take in, the more the blankets are lifted, and the light is shown on the truth. In these moments I can see my life from a different perspective. I can allow reality to shine a light on the false images that my Bipolar Mind has created. For she will always twist reality to her means and make the eyes always doubt what they see, and leave the ears always straining for the truth.

What is reality?

What is the truth?

Who am I ultimately?

Crazy? Or Sane?

Crazy? Or, Sane?

Crazy? Or? Sane?

In my mind there coexists two warring powers struggling for control of the physical. There is me, and there is the Bipolar Mind. The other half of me, the one that I try to keep locked in the deep dark corners of my consciousness. She is the ugly sister that I keep in my closet, the one that I try with all my might to keep hidden from the public, for fear of being shamed. She is the Beast I cannot control, the Demon who haunts me at night, and the Banshee who screams and feeds on the fears of others. She has no care for those around her, and uses her words like the cut of a blade. She makes those closest to her bleed the tears of love, until they are pushed to the limits of their hearts. She makes them doubt their patience, and whether they can endure the malice that she produces. She is the beast I cannot control, and if you have met her, I am sorry for her words and actions. To her loved ones, I hope you continue to endure, for she wears her shackles with strain.

Crazy or Sane?


At the end of each night, and rise of each morning there is always something missing. Some thought that goes unanswered, or some trail unfollowed. Each path is lost due to the shackles on my mind, and the dosages of the medical poison they prescribe. Each of these toxins I put in my body creates a haze over the events of my life, both past, and present. My mind falters at lost images of my past and doubts these events as though they are not my own happenings. These lost moments haunt me each night and always have me thinking, trying to recollect each moment, trying to see them through. As always though, they are lost to the night and the demons that will eventually pull me under.

Sometimes I don’t even know where to begin with the rollercoaster that is my life. Can you imagine living your life at about 160 mph each moment of each day? And that’s cruising speed, my life with caffeine or on drugs is much, much faster, factor in my manic episodes, and time seems to fly by you. It’s exhausting, exhilarating, exciting, and frightening. It’s liberating to the point that you want to throw your hands up and yell into the air; and yet it can be so frightening that enduring with your eyes closed might just be preferable. Sometimes you run straight back to your hidey-hole, and sometimes you ride the rollercoaster with such a ferocity that you feel your heart rip from your chest, somersault into oblivion and land you back on the floor with your two feet firmly planted. Who’s ready to ride again? Because I am!

When life comes at you that fast you thrive on your impulses, and sometimes you don’t get the chance to sit back and think about your decisions. Sometimes you live in the moment and the past doesn’t have time to catch up with you. You race forward, from one moment to the next, not taking a moment to stop, breath, and think. Just think for one moment of the future and its consequences, think of what can happen to you and those around you and think of the consequences of each action and how this might affect you and others. When the Bipolar Mind is in control there are no moments for these thoughts, there’s just a race to the imaginary finish line located at infinite. When she’s in control, she makes the decisions, she makes her moves at lightning speed, and she does what’s best for her at that moment. She is selfish and cruel, and her conniving malice is never-ending. She looks out for her. That is all.


Who picks up those pieces though? Who deals with the consequences that lie in her wake, and the destruction that she has caused. Those who get hurt, either get lost or get over it.  There are no other options. The Beast is in control, and she takes no prisoners. Those with blood ties to the Monster within make their appearances scarce until the demons are under control. Family is forever, no matter what demons you carry. When the damage has been caused, and the Bipolar Mind has retreated to her corner, to lick her wounds, who is it that nurses the wounded, and rebuilds the ties? Family endures beyond the lines of conscious and subconscious. All beasts are linked to another in some way, and this tie is what keeps us humane.

You can say that each individual on this planet is in possession of his or her own kind of crazy, but none can compare to the crazy, which thrives in the dark recesses of my mind. I am no one, and yet I am everywhere, the only difference between you and me? I have no control over the emotions that wrack my body at each moment of the day. My emotions are magnified to the utmost possibility, without literally destroying my soul. Although, I will say that, on occasion, said soul has been lost to the darkness far longer than I would have preferred. And yet, when you flip my coin, I am on top of the world and my power is untouchable and limitless. I am unstoppable and the world is my oyster. But what can you do? The Bipolar Mind does what it wants when it wants.

But who is she? Where does she come from? And why was I cursed to carry her burden on my conscience? She is me, but I am not her. Of that I am certain. I carry her memories and share her mind. She thrives on my emotions, and I thrive on her energy. However, I know for certain I am not the malicious beast that the Bipolar Mind paints me to be. My life is full of bright, glimmering pieces of light. They shine with such exuberance, that you feel blinded by their beauty. I am surrounded by the utmost outstanding people who make nothing but positive influences on those around them. They are the picture of a kind, caring, loving family, who only do good unto those around them. Together we are a family. So who is this demon that lives within the recesses of my mind? Why does she haunt me during the quiet hours of the day? Whispering a tortuous tune into my ear, over my shoulder, always nearby to drag me into her underworld.


This is her message to you. The remembering’s of our collective memory, in both her perspective and mine. This is our story. It can be loud, scary, and insane, but it is ours, and it is begging to be told.


Illustrated by: Alexis Bringas

An Introduction by Ordinary Means…

An Introduction by Ordinary Means…

Hello, and welcome to our page!

We’re the Galdamez Crew.

Our family of five consists of Mom, Dad, Evan, Logan, and Cooper (my bonus baby pictured below).

Allow me to introduce, from left to right:

Evan, Avery, Logan, and Dominic.

The funny part is, this all began with one big, OOPS!

I come from a large, predominantly strong (like insanely strong and confident) female lead family, being I’m one of four sisters. If you know one of us, you know all of us (that’s just how it works in this pack). About 4 years ago, there was one missed contraceptive pill, and a month later the doctor announced: SURPRISE! You’re having a baby!

Come again now? 

9 crazy months later, we welcomed our first boy into the Roque clan, as Evan made his arrival in September of 2015. 3 short months later, Dominic would grace us with his presence, being the miracle baby of the family. Coopie arrived just in time for Evan’s first birthday, before Avery made her arrival later that December.

Once you pop, you just don’t stop. 

I guess you can say I popped the lid on that one. Because now? We got these kids coming out of everywhere, and we’re quickly becoming outnumbered.

We welcomed Logan 2 years later, and throw in our 3 other nieces — the count is where now??

8 grandkids for Abuela and Abuelo… 

Throw in the fact that were not done procreating yet…

And our mom might not survive these multiplying kids

I come from a big family

That’s an understatement, it’s only getting bigger.

Add to that, these crazy kids experience everything together and get into all kinds of trouble together. Most of the time, they don’t realize that they’re not actually brothers and sisters, and that “yes you need to go to your own home little girl” and “no you’re not coming to my house today”. At “Abuela’s Day Care” there are three toddlers and one infant on any given weekday.

They tend to do aalloottttttt of crazy shenanigans together, and it’s always the most fun they’ve ever had. The chaos that unfolds daily at our home and on our combined adventures is nothing short of hilarious. As “work from home” mom’s we spend half the time laughing at their conversations and the crazy adventures they get into; and the other half ripping our hairs out trying to decide who to punish first — and honestly speaking, its usually Avery, (she’s the little firecracker!)

la inventora de todo los mal ideas

But at the end of the day, we wouldn’t have it any other way. They love each other in the same way I love each of my sisters. The relationship dynamics between them are eerily like our own relationships. Best of all? We get to watch them grow into miniature versions of ourselves, and we get to partake in all the fun of our childhoods — all over again, but this time with our own kids. We still feel like kids ourselves most of the time.

It’s both the most work we’ve ever done, and the best of times we’ve ever had.




Say Hi Logan!

An introduction to Logan James Galdamez.

Hey There! This is our new space, and we would like to welcome all our new visitors. My name is Logan James — and yes, I’m named after the infamous Wolverine. I’ve been with mom and dad for 9mo. now and it has been nothing but pure love and joy. I have to note that their joy and wonder as they discover this world with me is nothing short of magical.

It was during week 22 of mommy’s pregnancy that genetic blood work came back with a positive marker for Trisomy21.

After an amniocentesis at week 23, mommy received her confirmation of a positive diagnosis for the chromosomal disorder of Trisomy21. Also, more commonly referred to as Down Syndrome. Although, I will say there is nothing down about my attitude, nor my outlook on life.

I was born in June of 2018 at 38 weeks and 5 days. My doctors at Maternal Fetal Medicine, who followed my case weekly — believed it was best for me to come out a bit earlier than we anticipated, due to my growth restriction. During weeks 32-37 of mommy’s pregnancy, I had only gained almost a pound. So, SURPRISE! Here I come two weeks early!

After the initial induction, and finally after having the water broken, I arrived in 15 short minutes. Mommy likes to say that she didn’t even know I came out until I was screaming in her arms.

“Wait, what? He’s out?! That’s it?!”
-mommy on June 27 at 9:42pm

I spent 10 days in the NICU due to feeding reluctance, and PPHN which had me oxygen dependent. During this time mommy and daddy would come to visit as much as possible, while also readying my room at home. 

Mommy likes to joke that “you would never guess I ate from a feeding tube for the first 5 days of my life”. Why? Now I eat like a champ and there hasn’t been food I don’t like. I spend most of my day discovering the environments around me while trying so hard to get the attention of Evan and my cousins.

Those first weeks after the diagnosis was rough for mommy and daddy. But, they know that the universe knows what it does. Therefore, I was meant for them, and them for me. This could be for a reason we don’t yet but certainly, for reasons we have only just begun to understand. Considering how little mom knew about Trisomy21, and the none to nil contact she’s had with individuals like me — it makes sense she was a nervous wreck.

But these smiles make it all worthwhile.

Now, almost ten months later mom and dad aren’t the only ones who have fallen completely, and totally in love with me. Due to my infectious smiles, and the wondrous beauty I see in everything, the individuals I meet and come to know, also come to see the world with the same sense of wonder.

Don’t get me wrong, I know my journey is a slow one as I meet my milestones slower than my brothers and cousin did. Mom likes to say I’m lazy, dad likes to say I’m just observing how it’s done first.

But now, at 9 months I am finally mastering the art of sitting and beginning the learning movements of crawling. When mom compares me to my brother Evan (which, yes yes, I know I shouldn’t) I’m nowhere near the running and climbing he was doing at this age.

But that doesn’t stop me from being the most perfect thing mommy has ever laid eyes on.

Follow along on our journey to hear more about my developments, as well as different material relating to mom’s journey into motherhood while managing mental illness and health.