Bipolar Life- The Strongest Can Fall

Listen up.

There is a false idea that the strongest remain strong, and in spite of the tragedies, losses, abuses, lies, deceit, and ravaged heartbreak, they always will be.

Dear friends, this is a lie.

Everyone out there may face a beat down of the soul. That inner place that should be safe as a Christian may find a challenge that wins temporarily. There may be a lost hope and dysfunctional faith that stumbles for long periods. The rock that held everyone together could crack, and pieces scatter in silence.

I sat in church today, crying. Tears filled my eyes, but I held them back from cascading down; I don’t want anyone to see me falter. Lord forbid I fall weak in worship, and face my truth. No one needs to see my pain.

Then I glanced around.

Why do I care? No one is looking.

I sat alone. My thoughts were racing and exploding within. All day, I sat and considered it all.

I bowed my head and said the words to Christ alone, “I don’t know how to love you right now.”

With that, I confessed I am in a terrible place. I fought for years to stay away from the deep end of depression. I can swim, but I am tired. Fatigue kills you when you tread too long, and the waves crash down.

I considered sharing something, anything, about this with my husband. I can’t do it. I don’t want to share it with anyone right now. I’m the strong one. I can handle this world, and I am a pro. A lifetime of stressful situations prepared me for additional stress. But today, I’m unprepared, or unwilling. I’m not sure which it is.

Life could be different. I run through the scenarios daily. Change this, run here, hide there, I fantasize more than I should. This is my life. It has yet to be what I imagined long ago. I’ve yet to feel like the person I thought I was.

The enemy is no longer someone out there. I am my own enemy at this point. Which means I am in the middle of a battle no one else can see. The internal fires are ablaze, and the smoke is blinding. Strategy is everything; timing is critical.

I refuse to write this off as ‘a season’. I know that’s the key phrase for difficult times. Newsflash to the mentally healthy, mental illness has no cure. This is a lifetime of seasons-a rotation of winter, spring, summer, and fall. Don’t confuse mental illness with your seasons’ explanation.

I am angry, hurt, and disappointed, and I admit it. I am tired and longing for a life I will never have, not on this earth. I will carry on and function. Carrying on is all I know. I have done it for over 40 years. That is a long time to address stress or live in it as a child, then an adult.

As I search for the will and strength to keep going, I know He’s still here, in my doubt and longing. I don’t want to hurt the Savior of my soul, but I would rather be honest about my condition and state of mind and heart.

Welcome to a confession, even if it’s a hard one to swallow.


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