Bipolar Life- The Journal #78 “Where I Exist, I Must Live”

Emerging Self

Like the rest of the world, this Covid ravaged year sucks. My last journal said it all, though painful and honest. Lost in Covid change, lost in marital distress, lost in addicted children- I blew up knowing I disappeared along the way. The daily fight to resurface is real and shaky.

I have rarely journaled through this chaos. I lost my inspiration as life around me discouraged hope. Additionally, I lost my grip on, well, everything. The autopilot mode kept me going as it has my entire life. Check out and push a button, just like that the minimum continues while the rest takes a pause. A part of me stays stagnant while the necessary things get done. Maybe it is a respite God gives so I keep going.

Today, I feel a change. I can’t say I am back onboard at full capacity, but I am awake. I recognize the loss of time 2020 is. This year started for me in December of 2019. A tragic death followed by a spiral of kids in addiction. My year was not consumed by Covid, it was consumed by jail, drugs, alcohol, and mental decline- not of me, but of those around me. Internalizing their issues has been my downfall, and I still don’t know how to overcome the battle.

I thought our annual fishing trip in July would reenergize and invigorate that zest for life lost, but it was a massive failure. Returning home without that recoup of sanity left me in worse condition. My husband and I were so disconnected prior to going, we couldn’t find connection. It may be my hardest moment. We’ve since began the climb back. A spontaneous trip to South Dakota over Labor Day made up for our fishing failure. Unfortunately, work took him out of state in October, and it is taking a toll.

Through the trials of this year, I wanted to give up. I’m not sure I was looking to die, but to be done. For anyone who experiences mental illness, I know you understand. If Jesus had returned, I would have dressed in my best and ran swinging pompoms. Alas, here we are still living. I remember putting a post on Facebook, early into Covid when it felt eerie and quiet, due to stay at home orders, “Are you all still here? This isn’t the real life Left Behind, right?”

I was still optimistic back in the spring and laughed.

I hate dealing with bipolar. I don’t use medication to regulate, so I choose to work through the flight on my own. I have mastered this over the more than 20 years since a formal diagnosis. I always had my church family though, and that was taken way this year to an extent. I enjoy the freedom to indulge in going places when I want, but that was taken away. Luckily, I had the outdoors and a perfect summer here at home.

However, like every other year, summer came to an end. Seasonal depression kicks in, and I lose all motivation. Recognizing this over the past few days, I am working on correcting my trajectory. I cannot wallow in self-pity any longer. I am doing myself no favors in retreating. I know I am stronger than the pain around me. My challenge is to keep the pain on the outside from penetrating my deepest self. I reserve that space for Christ alone, and all the junk of this world must be held out.

I hope and pray this is my new beginning. December of 2019 brought evil into our lives, and I see it now. Satan may have enjoyed a period of content, but he will not win the battle. Nothing brought against me will prosper. I am a daughter of the Great I am, in my mental clarity or disruption.

He never leaves me, I know to whom I belong.