Bipolar Life- The Journal #74- “Suicide Cries”

Where something beautiful should be, lies a vacant space only filled with the waste of pain. Years of abuse scavenged every last bit of light—a broken mind from a broken heart.

Lost & Found- Wasted Dream

I look back, and a wasted dream comes to mind. However, what if God's perfect timing was after I endured the crazy bumps of life. Every piece of my story speaks to the strength and power of my Savior.

Their Addiction-My Journey- The Road to Recovery

How do we love those who not only appear unlovable in their mess but also hate us in it, as well? I had dodged fists and verbal attacks, put up bail money (only once), picked up my grand-kids from a ravaged house with a passed out mom, and cleaned out more hidden empty bottles than I can count. Still, the pain I felt when the handcuffs went on killed me. The hopelessness was burning through my soul the way Satan enjoys.