Authentic Stories Sharing His Authentic Love
Life, reflection, and aging. If mid-life is here, what I am in it?
Where was the good in abuse for over a decade as a child? Where was the good in watching my fiancée collapse from a cerebral hematoma and wake up out of a coma weeks later as though he was seven years old again? What was good about having bipolar disorder? I could keep going, but you get what I am saying. What was good about any of it? NOTHING!
Whatever I may be feeling, or not feeling at this point, is understandable. I give myself permission to sit in the cold of my soul, and pout. I offer myself time to heal, and to find the cinder still burning deep down.
This is the truth. I have Bipolar disorder, I have lived with this for most of life. The childhood abuse I endured did one heck of a number on my brain and chemistry, changing forever what could have probably been a normal mind. Once I hit adulthood and a manic episode ended in the worst …
Continue reading "Bipolar Life- The Journal, #16"
As an abused child, I stayed locked behind the bars my abuser erected for the keeping. I held on tight to those bars in hopes they would protect me. Their true purpose was to contain me. The darkness I felt then, I feel now.
In the search for my positive side, the word ‘better’ feels like a good place to start. For years, I have been chasing better-better health, better walk with God, better communication, and above all, a better situation for my daughter. That last one, it is breaking my heart and tearing me in pieces that are …
Continue reading "Five Minute Friday-Better"
Will I ever pray again? I ponder the deep level of love I once felt, and the superficial floating I now do. Where have I gone? Satan is using the power in another's life to overcome me. I see it, but I have no tools to fight. I am too tired to pick up my accessories in faith and swing. I am weak.
This past summer I stopped in a very dark alley of my life. I stopped, and I kneeled. I took a very long and deep breath. I am still exhaling today. For the love of myself, the me that I want to be, it was a necessary step to take.
Tis the day before Thanksgiving and all through the house the smell of hair dye is fuming, and it could probably kill a mouse.
One word in the Bible repeatedly shouts at me, and the repetitive reminder requires us to both be active and to stop and listen, all in one word: perseverance- doing something despite difficulty and delay in achieving success.
We are simply here. In a confusing and quiet place. We both accept the reality, we both choose to get through it, together.
Retro Gaming, Positive Fatherhood, Proudly South African
Authentic Stories Sharing His Authentic Love
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