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LOSING HIGH SCHOOL

Scott Wilkerson
Comments by Lori Wilkerson

From Scott:

As far back as high school I can recall having problems with my moods and coping with life circumstances. A lot of the different problems I ran into seemed unrelated, at least back then. I felt like I was a hypochondriac. I was told by my physician that I was stressed, etc. Get more sleep, eat better and stop worrying. This, of course, in my family was a near impossibility. I felt like I didn't measure up in a family of high achievers, and if you didn't work 60 hours a week, make a boat-load of money and have straight A's, you were a disappointment.

Meeting these constant demands led to a stomach ulcer (I kept large bottles of Pepto-Bismol in my car, my locker, my book bag, and my golf bag and stashed in the kitchen, bathrooms and my bedroom), alcohol and drug use, and feelings of worthlessness; all this at 16 years old. These are the best years of our lives! At no point did this doctor, who had been treating me for years at that point, suggest that there might be more to it than normal teenage stress, nor did he ever mention going to get psychological help, not that it would have made much difference in little old, blue-collar southwestern Pennsylvania. I survived the next 14 years or so, but I'm not sure how.

Lori's Turn:

Work 60 hours a week, make boat-loads of money and make straight-A's? I'm confused. We were all expected to make very good grades, yes. We were considered academically gifted and our parents wanted us to excel, but I don't recall anyone being punished for bad grades, and I consistently brought home Cs in French and Bs in Chemistry.

Scott worked harder than either myself or my brother, but if there was pressure to always have a job, I sincerely believe he put it on himself in order to please our father - Scott worked long, arduous hours sanding and refinishing hardwood floors, working the pipelines and doing manual labor, but I don't recall either me or my other brother doing the same, and no one ever demanded it of him. I worked at the Dairy Queen, and I felt loved and accepted without straight-A's or "boat loads of money."

This is one of those things that I find so heinous about bipolar - Scott's memory of our youth magnifies every fault of our family and portrays our parents as monsters. They were not perfect (no parents are), but they were not ogres and the portrait Scott paints isn't an excuse for his drug and alcohol abuse as a youth. He didn't have "constant demands to meet" that would lead naturally to an ulcer, yet he sincerely believes that he did. We had enviable teen years and were given far more than most teenagers in our town, yet his illness must have magnified every time that our parents disciplined him and minimized every loving gesture.

How terrible it must have been to live in a loving family and watch my brother and myself live happy, well-adjusted lives and feel like the outsider looking in. How awful to not be able to understand why no one else felt that terrible, aching sense of rage and the sensation of never being in control. Scott lost his teenage years and I never knew it.

About the Authors

Lori Wilkerson and Scott Wilkerson are brother and sister and contributing writers for BipolarCentral.com.

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