How I Manage Bipolar Disorder and PTSD While Raising Kids Alone

 

I’m a single mom of three, working remotely, living in the Philippines, and managing bipolar disorder and PTSD.

If that already sounds like a lot, and trust me, it is.

But this isn’t a story written for pity.
It’s more of a note to self.
A reminder of how far I’ve come, how much I continue to carry, and how I’m still standing.

And maybe, just maybe, if someone out there finds themselves in the same messy, complicated shoes, I hope this reminds you that you're not alone.

Because that’s what it often feels like.
Alone.

I have Bipolar 1. And if I’m being honest, most days feel like I have 20 tabs open in my brain, blinking, loud, impossible to ignore.

When I’m in a manic state, I barely sleep. Sleeping for 5 hours straight is a luxury for me.
My brain races with ideas and to-do lists and side quests I never signed up for.
I start things I can’t finish. Projects, plans, and chores all at once.
It’s like being stuck in fast-forward without a pause button.

Then, the crash comes.

The depressive state is heavy.
Some mornings, I can’t even pull myself out of bed.
Not because I’m lazy. Not because I don’t care.
But because it physically hurts to try.

In those moments, I just want to hold my kids close, kiss them, breathe them in, and stay still.
But the paranoia creeps in. The guilt eats me alive.
The negative thoughts? Loud. Invasive. And sometimes, terrifying.

There’s fear.
There’s guilt.
And there’s a voice that whispers, “You're failing.”

Being a solo parent means I have to show up, no matter what state I’m in.
There’s no backup. No, “Can you take over today?”
It’s like parenting four people—my kids… and me.
Because managing my mental health is a full-time job in itself.

That’s where it gets really heavy.

I work, clean, cook, care, correct, hug, and listen.
And that’s the thing
No matter how shattered I feel inside, I still have to be soft for them.
Still have to smile. Still have to listen to their stories.
Still have to be “Mom.”

Being the only adult in the house is a different kind of pressure.
You’re the mom, the dad, the provider, the comforter, the referee, the listener, the fixer, the handyman, all rolled into one.
And it’s so damn exhausting.
Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally.

Because no matter how much love I pour into my kids, there’s always that nagging question, 
Will it ever be enough?

Here in the Philippines, being a single mom still comes with stares.
The judgment. The assumptions.
The whispers behind your back when people realize all your kids carry your last name.

Some look at you with pity. Others with shame.
Either way, it's exhausting.

What they don’t see is the effort,
The late nights. The skipped meals.
The moments where I break down in the bathroom, just so I can come out smiling.
They don’t see the small victories, how I hold my family together, even on the days I can barely hold myself.

And the fear? It’s always there.
The fear that my kids might not feel complete.

School programs, Family Day, especially, hit the hardest.
I put on my brave face. But inside, it stings.

Therapy and meds help, yes.

But what really keeps me going are the small things:

• Journaling — I write down everything I feel and everything I manage to do. It reminds me I’m still moving, even when it doesn’t feel like it.

• Mobile games — A little escape when the noise in my head gets too loud.

• Watching shows with my kids — even the ones I’ve seen 50 times.

• Monthly massage. Coffee shop catch-ups with friends.

• Sundays — Our unplugged day. Just me and my kids, in our little bubble of peace.

  

We ended our Sunday with KFC and some tattoo fun. Mine? Yeah, it’s permanent.

But it’s not always sunshine and butterflies.

There are days when I just want to shut down.
Days I want to sleep it all off, but I can’t. Because little humans are depending on me.
Days when even putting words to what I feel feels impossible.

It’s Okay to Not Be “Supermom” Every Day

There will be days when the house is a mess.
When you don’t cook and just order takeout... again.
When the kids get more screen time than they should.

And that’s okay.

That doesn’t make you a bad mom.
That doesn’t make you weak.
It just makes you human.

You are still the best mother for them, even on your worst days.
Hell with what others say.
The only ones who truly get to say if we’re doing a good job?

They are the ones who call us “Mom.”

A Gentle Reminder for You (and Me)

Raising a family while battling a mental illness is not easy.
Sometimes, all you need is a breather.
A heart-to-heart with a friend.
An hour-long massage.
A cup of coffee, alone, unbothered.
A moment of peace that’s just yours.

So if today feels heavy, let it.

Rest. Cry. Breathe.

You’re still doing your best, even when your best doesn’t look like much to others.
You’re still showing up, and that’s more than enough.

You did it on your own

That’s how strong you are, that’s how unshakable you’ve become.
Even when it’s exhausting...

I know you’ll keep going every single day, for yourself and for your children.

So that no matter how chaotic the world gets, they’ll never feel that chaos, because you’ve made them feel safe.

Every day, I remind myself:

"I’ve come this far on my own; nothing and no one can bring me down now."

I’ve let it out

Now I’m listening. 

Let’s Talk

If you’re going through something similar, or even completely different but just as heavy, feel free to share in the comments.
Ask questions. Vent. Tell your story.

This space is judgment-free, always.
We’re not alone in this. And you don’t have to pretend to be okay here. 💛