I spent my day busy at work, but had my headphones in. I was listening to someone who broke my heart with every word. He is a Christian speaker and recently stepped away from preaching. He is struggling with some personal ‘stuff’ at the moment, and his anger speaks louder than his faith. However, there is no mistake, his faith remains strong.
I was drawn to this gentlemen for his outstanding poetry. His ability to draw you in like he is telling your story is genius. For me, I experience my own emotions and feelings through his ‘Spoken Word.’ Moreover, the beautiful truth he shares resonates with what I wish I could say.
I look back at what I have shared here and I know I have been authentic. The problem is that I hold back. I only realized that after watching some of the videos today. Tonight, I sit alone and wonder why. This passive behavior has plagued me my whole life. I authentically remain gentle when my words would be tough to hear. Is this kindness or fear?
You see, I have Bipolar Disorder. In real life, away from the writing, I never curse. If I do, people panic. In my real life, I am the mediator for all, the right hand man, the ear that listens, the hand that helps. In real life, I am strong as a warrior, a fighter till the end. However, I am love. In everything I do, I share love, I show love, I pray in love. This is who I am called to be, and I strive to obey that call. In living for Christ, I live differently than most Bipolar people out there.
But what about the other side of me?
Whether I am here writing or out there living, I struggle with the numerous echoes in my mind. The screaming little girl, the angry adolescent, the fearful young woman, the hurting wife, the disappointed mother, the ashamed daughter, the worried Christian. The other me rages one against the other, but silently inside. My thoughts frighten me, and it is rare I allow anyone to know. By day I intentionally keep them locked away. Yes, I have to lock up my own mind. If I don’t, the consequence of living my thoughts could be devastating. This is a prison sentence that will only end with death.
I am not alone.
I wish this brought comfort, but it only brings pain. I know somewhere out there is a beautiful man or woman struggling to survive. Their thoughts roam free and the darkness lies with it’s charm and intrigue. Tonight someone will walk away from hope and faith because they can’t believe a Savior exists for someone so screwed up. They’ve witnessed the agony of evil and trust in a silent God is lost. Their pain now dictates their feelings and emotions, and pain unforgiven leads to bitterness and hate.
No, I am not alone.
I want to promise myself to be transparent. I want to say the whole truth of this battle I live day in and day out. I work so hard to control my thoughts, I write them off into some burning fire in my mind. Yet, they remain. Our thoughts are fire proof. We can master controlling them, but they are always there. It’s the other side of Bipolar, and we cannot escape.