Shortly after I had my son, the opportunity came, so I took the Border Patrol Agent exam. Of course, my husband supported me. He was actually the one who stayed home with our son so I could take the exam.

I thought of the possibility of becoming an agent while he served in the armed forces because I wanted us to work as a team-two government employees making bank! I didn't see my shortcomings, but he did, and he didn't mind. I think he liked that about me. This took place way before I was diagnosed with bipolar depression. 

I didn't get the job, but neither did SGT Bennette (don't know if I spelled his name correctly). He actually needed the government job after he got out of the Army. I think he ended up re-enlisting. 

I took some college credits instead, with a certificate as an arrhythmia heart monitor technician, where I got to work under contract with OMV Inc., at Brook Army Medical Center, under my supervisor Ron Wren, and my husband, who was the wardmaster and oversaw the entire wing on one of the floors I worked at. 

Shortly after my contract ended, I went back to college; I loved college, and I also loved staying home with my son. There came a time when I had to decide whether to grow our family or focus on my career path. I didn't like seeing my husband working two jobs. He was hardly home. He worked full-time at BAMC, did duty time (we'd go over to visit him), and even took a part-time weekend job at a nursing home for some extra cash flow. 

I was ambitious, and I had tasted the extra cash flow from my time working at BAMC. It was decent pay for a part-time job. We both decided instead to grow our family and let go of the double-income narrative, sticking to his career in the Army, on a single-income path. 

I still took college courses while pregnant with my second child, but it was more for enrichment than career-wise purposes.

I was happy. It was a concrete choice we both agreed on. I felt safe and secure in my marriage. After our third child, we had two in diapers, my spending diminished; I just spent money on groceries and minimal personal care items. Maybe it was the way I channeled the feeling of neglect. I didn't demand much, but deep inside I still had a hard drive for my personal ambitions and satisfaction. There was more I could do for myself.

I did things around the house with my children that didn't require spending any money but rather investing our time together doing things that we enjoyed together, and that made me happy. Such as homeschooling my son, listening to classical music (Mozart Effect), Christian music, and nursery time with my girls. I had them on a daily schedule: dinner, playtime before bath time, and then bedtime. Emily would get cranky if she didn't get her paw-paw right before putting her in her crib. She would expect it and cry to remind me. My son was in Kinder/First grade; I had his school uniform ready for the next day and tucked him in bed with little prayer.

We had him involved in baseball as a pastime family activity. That's what we did on the weekends for family entertainment. Everything was cost-effective, nothing extravagant. Lysette was a newborn growing out her mohawk; I had to train her hair with cute thin baby headbands. I would take pictures of them with our digital camera. I didn't have a cellphone.

I wore minimal makeup and comfy clothes. I shopped at the Commissary and PX Exchange. Winters are cold in Chicago; I had no desire to leave my home; I made lots of potato-and-cheese soup for the kids. I even made Isaac some octopus soup; he loved it! 

It was all good. Except I felt a bit sad when my husband behaved bizarrely from time to time, and I suspected something was going on. His mood and personality changed. I had bells on the front door to hear him leave in the morning and come home from work in the evening. I was in the kitchen when all of a sudden I felt a strong presence, and I prayed before I turned to look, and there he was in his ACU uniform. I thought it was strange that I didn't hear the bells or the fact that he usually wore his Class A's for work. Nevertheless, it was him in uniform. I didn't question my sanity.

I depended on him financially as my sole provider and sponsor, so I tried to focus on what truly mattered and what made me happy. I focused on my children; I depended on them for emotional support and vice versa.

After putting the kids to bed, there was a night my husband stayed up late watching Howard Stern (again out of character). This was the man who listened to Joel Osteen and took us to Cornerstone with Pastor John Hagee when we lived in San Antonio.

I would go down to the basement and go on the family computer. I did a lot of religious theory research, looking for answers, or watched a different show other than Howard Stern in the basement. I found his show offensive; I would cry down in the basement, pray, and read my scriptures out of the Bible. I would update my MySpace social media and catch up with old high school friends. 

I used my outlet to stay in touch, and I connected with others through TV shows. It was all accessible and free to use. On social media, we didn't want to pay for Classmates.com to stay in touch.

Then the UFO sighting over Navy Housing, which I researched online, and then the supernatural occurrences (like him showing up unannounced as previously described above)... It all became overwhelmingly too much. I ended up hospitalized, and the doctors thought I was experiencing postpartum psychosis/depression as a result of neglect; it was shortly later concluded to be bipolar depression. 

The supernatural experiences kept escalating, but my faith helped me cope with the unknown; I learned to embrace the gift.

I'm so glad I'm not there anymore. The good thing is there are records of my manifestation in my condition and state, even witnesses who testified in court about my beautiful personality. Hence, I don't worry so much about false accusations, if anyone dared to make against me, such as that I'm mean or rude. Even my husband knows I'm the sweetest person with a strong-headed character and an impressive personality. 

I mean well and do well with others; I don't harm myself or harm others. In reference to my divorce, with emergency relief, mediation, divorce decree, and so forth, I know things are clearing up because I've put in the effort so that all things will work together for my good. That is a promise from God. God doesn't lie.

Postpartum depression is treatable, and so is bipolar depression, but I've also faced cruel challenges where I became overmedicated and had secondary effects that left me in a vulnerable disposition. I'm just thankful that God has been here with me, and He has shown mercy to my family and me. 

Watching the case trial of Lindsey Clancy is a reality check... lives have been lost as a result of mental health concerns, neglect, and medical negligence.