The overwhelming source of 'sin' being laid on me by Satan himself was a sham. He used my compassion, empathy, and sorrow against me. The devil wanted me to soak in the loss of His game. He was happy watching me suffer for something I did not do. Even my anger became his play toy. Justifying it just as he did depression, sadness, remorse, and every other emotion and feeling I used to batter my soul.
Letting go was forfeiting my need to be some part of their savior.
An addict's mother crying, as the day begins. Endless prayers are rising, her hope speaks to win. But battles are not owned by mothers on the side. And gloves may be on, but never touch the fight.
I know the doubt, fear, and frustration in managing the symptoms of bipolar. If I prayed long and hard enough, I thought I would be healed, cured, and labeled a miracle. So far, that has not happened. I am still balancing bipolar, but with a new understanding of my mind.
Hindsight leads to insight, and if I knew then, what I know now, it would be a different ballgame. It may not change the outcome because the one lesson I know better than any is I can never change another human's mind. I do not own that power.
I tried to be the strong warrior for all, in fact my words were still fierce and meaningful. Unfortunately, the auto pilot mechanism of helping others, never applied to me.
When anxiety tramples your night.
God's love will lead us to step aside. His parenting must come first.
I hear the warriors crying out in broken words, but free. All for love, they call upon, the power to rescue me.
You cannot love others as yourself if you do not love yourself first.