Bipolar Life-The Journal #43

<unedited, authentic>

If life was anything other than stressful, I am not sure I would know how to live.

Our home is full of kids and grandkids. After an emergency, my daughter has moved home with my sweet grandchildren. The kids are registered at their new school, a new job is on the horizon, and a new beginning has begun. I am exhausted from the long week and grateful for an extra day off tomorrow.

Bipolar Disorder enjoys reminding me it is still here during these stress-filled moments. I work to maintain my mental health, but stress is like catching a virus and letting it run it’s course. No antibiotics to fight it, you can only use over the counter aides and fill your days with rest and fluids. That is where I am today. Rest is my friend and companion through a time of sadness and uncertainty. However, rest is rare.

I said a prayer yesterday that shocked me.

“Lord, I need help. I don’t know what to do or what to say.” Admission is the first step.

Oh to be in this place for the rest of my life. God prepared me for this current situation. I may not have the answers or the words, but I have the peace and the comfort to stay grounded and stabile in a very hostile and traumatizing situation. My reaction has been minimal and my anger controlled, non-existent really. This is what progress looks like. If ever I doubted the Lord in guiding me through Bipolar, I apologize now. He doesn’t just guide but carries me through the thick circulating mental pollution that evolves.

This is my life of bipolar disorder. The only constant I have is the battle to hold on to myself when the brain begins the shift between one extreme to another, and stress is the instigator. While I struggle to hold on to the happy medium, depression is on the offensive with full force to drag me down. If depression dips to low, mania will step in to intercept. Through the process I sit at the center wondering which one to follow. Mania has been my enemy in years past, so while it feels better, it is far worse. The internal mental battle will rage for an unknown length of time. My goal, to hang on tight.

No matter what quarter is playing in my mind, my heart remains true. For over 20 years the peace in my heart carries my soul.

Jesus dwells were mental illness cannot go.

That security carries me through the rough days and the pain of a mental illness I hate. I used to hate me, but I have grown to understand the difference. I fear others have yet to see. My goal is to help those on the battlefield know the full force of their ammo. Jesus Christ is all you need.

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