Bipolar Life- The Journal #59, Dying Inside.

I never saw this coming. I can handle most things, even the beat down I’ve taken over the last few years. But today, I struggle.

I have been blessed to never deal with the ravage of a personal addiction, but here we sit coping with it through the lives of loved ones.

A bit about me…

I am a take-charge kind of girl. Crisis hits, I spring into action to find solutions, ease tensions, and guide all to a safe and respectable outcome. This last devastating crisis has wiped me out (read about it here). The level of fatigue is severe.

Everyone forgets I battle mental illness, too. Sure, I am the pillar of strength, the voice of reason, and the glue that holds it together, (blah blah blah).

I am human with limits on what I can physically and mentally handle. Yet, with each blink of tired eyes, stress keeps coming. The long train has no end. The toll is hefty.

I don’t have time to breathe, let alone care for myself the way I should. I am busy with everyone else; my thoughts are centered on them. I circle memories and wish things had been different. Bouncing off of each one, I feel empty in the sadness.

God has a plan, but I struggle to embrace the unknown. The forced smiles are getting difficult.

Tonight I remember Amy Bleuel, founder of Project Semicolon. She was the voice for many. Her encouragement and dedication to the fight against suicide was empowering.

She grew tired and lost her battle. On this night, I get it.

While the war rages for only a season for some, many of us confront our darkest thoughts daily. The exhaustion that we overcome for years eventually overcomes us. The shell left behind echoes with screaming pain, but no one hears it. All they see is the same strong person they’ve always known. The illusion is perfect yet deceiving.

I pray, but my prayers feel incomplete. My only solace, He knows the words of my heart. I hope that is enough.

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