Crazy or Weird?

Hey, thank you for your question & advice. My friend is already fully aware on my history with mental health - not my families though. To be honest, I hadn't even thought about that, so thank you again :)

I've been good friends with this girl for many, many years now. We'll call her Kelly. She's been married to "Jane" for a number of years now, were together for a number of years before their marriage, and friends for about a decade before that. They are both beautiful people, and have a very strong, and supportive family unit they are close with. At their wedding, we all got very drunk, and my friend Kelly "jokingly" asked me if I'd be the father to a baby for them. Her wife, Jane, said she couldn't think of anyone better. Skip ahead to last week, I'm texting my friend Kelly, just having a good catch up. They are now ready for a Baby, but said that IVF is just too expensive for them. They have been looking for a donor, but would rather prefer it to be done at home, preferably by someone they know and can trust. - She didn't ask me, but I know her. She's testing the waters, building up to ask me if my reaction is right. I'm in my 30s now, no relationship in sight, and my life-long want to be a father, I feel, is... not going well. My friends are both the same age as me, give or take a year or two. Whilst I'm aware if I were to say yes, it wouldn't exactly be my kid.... But it'd be nice to know that I guess... my genes will carry on? And I get to help my friends out be the people they always wanted to be. I'm in no state to be a father currently, even if I was with someone. So putting all the legal issues to one side for a moment... I'd love to hear from someone who's either been through this, or has considered it themselves. How did it go? What were/are your concerns? Good idea? Or bad idea? What sort of questions should I even be thinking about before making my decision? I guess my biggest concerns at the moment are: - The kid is more than likely going to inherit my mental health issues. It runs in the family, and has caused a LOT of members in my family a LOT of distress. Things have changed since I was born though... better support, understanding etc. - How will I feel when I see the baby? How will I feel when he/she starts to grow? When I visit my friend, and meet the baby in person? In 5 / 10 years time? - Will my OCD ultimately fixate on this, and drive me utterly crazy, into an early grave? - What if this is my only chance of, for lack of better words, leaving something positive behind once I'm gone?

I'm terrible with words, but I here's a poem that I recently wrote. Think it might be a good way to organise my thoughts a little, even if the outcome isn't great. It gets me to think about things in a different way.

Did knowing for sure help you out? Did you go on to receive some additional support? Is it worth doing? For the past 16/17 years or so, I've always put it off. I figured having another label attached to me wouldn't help me out. I'm still me, regardless if what labels the doctors want to use. If I was a child, then things would be different I guess.... but I've made it this far in life? Just wondering if it's worth the hassle or not.

I'd get rid of it in a heart beat. My highs are just as bad as my lows. And I've never been the creative type. At times I find myself wishing my bipolar was like theirs. Kinda sad when I think about it.

I was diagnosed with bipolar 2 and OCD back in 2011, and began playing the old "Maybe this mixture of medication will work" game. Finally found something that worked, and 8 years later decided I'd had enough. I'd had enough of feeling like a zombie, sleeping 20 hours a hours a day, being haunted by the nightmares the medication made me have. Unsure whether the bad memories I had were real or not. When I came off the medication, it took maybe 6 months to feel like myself again, and to get over the withdrawal symptoms. For me, life hadn't changed much in the previous 8 years. For everyone else? 8 years had passed. Those I went to college & university with, had began their careers. Many of them had their own family. They had explored the world, met great people, and had a sense of adventure. I was at a dangerously low weight. I was weak, tired easily, and felt lost in a world I hadn't really been apart of for the best part of a decade. But - I was determined to move on with my life. Better late than never right? First few years were great, even manged to convince myself that I never had bipolar to begin with! Maybe it really was just a phase, like many told me? It was normal for teenagers to feel moody, after all. I got a job, made new friends, began... living my life I guess. Right up until that very moment I read that newspaper article. The one that with that man's name, and his mugshot. He had been arrested, and sentenced to 18+ years inside. He no longer had that uneasy, confident grin on his face. That's when I realized that these "false memories" were more than likely, real. So I was faced with a choice: go back on my medication, quit work, likely lose my friends, or go down the route of finding something else to take the edge off. I began smoking weed. Just a little at first, when things were bad. It took my mind off the world, it relaxed me, and calmed me down. Then as things got worse, I smoked more... and more, and more. It got to the point where it really wasn't helping any more. I needed it just to face the world. Out of work (again), lost contact with most my friends (again), and spent most of the day in bed. Back where I started all those years ago. Today marks 3 months since I've been off weed. I've finally started to get things back in order. Reignited my old friendships, preparing to work again, and most importantly, looking after myself. Are things better now? Not at all. But hey, I'm trying.