Bipolar Life-Hidden Scars

I sat there, kneeling, alone.
I looked down at my wrists. Both showed the past that I couldn’t hide.
The scars ran across, up and down. I slowly ran my fingers over each. No one knew these scars existed.

Like every other part of my life, I hid them well.

As the tears fell down my cheeks, the sobs couldn’t be contained, though I silenced them perfectly. I didn’t need to wake anyone with this outburst of emotion.

There, in my living room, the pain that I’d never dealt with surfaced. I could feel it from my head to my toes.
My heart ached for healing, and normalcy.

With no one to turn to, with no where to go, I fell to my knees. Not wanting to live another day.

And it was there, in that room, that God saved me.

I’d accepted Jesus Christ years ago. This wasn’t a spiritual saving.

No, it was a literal life saving moment. I thought I was there crying alone, but He never left my side. And he saw it all, he knew it all.

What I successfully hid from the people in my life, I could never hide from him.

God showed me in one cold, lonely night that he knew all my hidden secrets, and that it didn’t matter.
Because as broken as I may have been…

…He loved me through it all.

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