The Roller Coaster of My Bipolar Disorder
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The root of all evil… “The family is both the fundamental unit of society as well as the root of culture. It...is a perpetual source of encouragement, advocacy, assurance, and emotional refueling that empowers a child to venture with confidence into the greater world and to become all that he can be.” MARIANNE E. NEIFERT, Dr. Mom's Parenting Guide When someone talks about events that happened three quarter of a century ago, and that he assisted to these events, he’s no spring chicken, …or he’s lying! Well, I was there, sorta… My mother, who already had twelve children, was blessed with my arrival… I was her eighteenth pregnancy! Obviously, there was a part of birth control she didn’t understand…or was there? In 1938, for people in Quebec, there was nothing to understand! There was no birth control, or self control or any control for that matter…other than the almighty control: the control by the catholic church. You were not allowed to think, to judge, to analyze, to decide or to use any other mental function of yours. The church was telling you why to think, when to think, what to think about, how to think …and more! It would be too long to go into details and make the trial of a religion gone awry. What they did to so many people could make the subject of an encyclopedia on mental, spiritual and…sexual abuse. When my mother was around 75 years old, I asked her, one day, why she had 18 pregnancies. Her answer was: “Your father was a bit too catholic for me…” I then asked her how many kids she wanted? Without hesitation, she answered, showing the index and the major finger of her right hand:“TWO!” I thought:”What am I doing here?” So my name was not: Desired… But, I must say, she was a very caring and dedicated mother. She was born in Carleton, Quebec, about twelve kilometers from Nouvelle. She was not too excited about moving to Nouvelle. She lived in Carleton by the sea, and she preferred its mentality to the one of Nouvelle. But: “Qui prend mari, prends pays.” “Who takes husband, takes country.” She was born from strong roots. Her father, Paul Caron, was known to be the strongest man around…and maybe anywhere in the world…
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About the Book
I must warn the reader that in spite of my efforts to deliver a book in Shakespearian English, it won’t happen. There will be some mistakes in my text, like there are some in my life. And I will not hire a corrector. I am who I am; it is what it is! Maybe you should buckle your seat belts… and have a good read!
About the Author
Let’s face it, I am a nobody. Unlike Margaret Trudeau, I didn’t frolic with the Rolling Stones, and my wife was not prime minister of Canada. In 1968, the only rolling thing in my life was an old 57 Chevy with skin cancer, and I was a fired teacher. Believe me, no Gauvreau mania in my social life—then, or now, for that matter. Having cleared the air on my social coordinates, let me explain what I was. Married with two children, fired from my teaching job in May, the future was not very bright for me. We will have the chance during the chapters to come to familiarize ourselves with the eventful adventures that have marked my life. Not having the charisma of a Mr. or a Mrs. Trudeau, I could not expect that somebody would bother reading my autobiography. On the other hand, like Mrs. Trudeau, I have a condition that is worth talking about: bipolar disorder. It’s under that angle that I am writing this book.