The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly

Yesterday morning when I woke up I was filled with an excitement throughout my body. Think Disneyland excited. An excitement that caused butterflys in my stomach. I sat outside with my coffee and knew that this excitement that I was feeling was because it was Good Friday. As like many Christians, Good Friday marks the start of a very exciting and emotional weekend. Good Friday marks the day my Jesus was crucified. Without Good Friday there would be No Resurrection Sunday (Easter). Yesterday morning I opened my Facebook page and saw that World Bipolar Day had fallen on Good Friday this year. Something struck me as I read this. Something stirred in me and almost made me uncomfortable. I didn’t quite know what to do with these feelings and had no idea why I felt the way I did. As my day went on I was trying to connect with God at every moment I could. It was the early afternoon and during one of these moments that the Lord spoke to my heart and unraveled my thoughts and feelings.

There was some significance with Good Friday and world bipolar day falling on the same day for me. Don’t get me wrong, I am all about bipolar awareness and busting the stigma, but as I was seeing bipolar posts flooding my Facebook page there was a personal decision that I needed to make. Yesterday I choose to not blog, post, or share anything bipolar related. I choose Jesus. I could have very easily recognized both Good Friday and world bipolar day, but my heart told me “no”. When Christ died on Good Friday, when He endured all the things He did that day, He did it for me…..for you. With every lashing, every blow, every thorn that dug into His precious head, He took on a sin, a sickness, a disease. All of my grief, sorrow, sadness, depression, mania, ocd, anger, pain was in every strike He took. All of the games my mind plays on me, my low self esteem, my regrets that eat at me, ALL of it He took upon Himself. When He died, it was not just my sins that died too, but ALL of my suffering both mental and physical. Without the selfless act of dying for me I would have no hope, no future, no healing. Because I live in a fallen world I will still battle (Ephisians 6:12) until I see my King in Glory. But that is just it, it’s a battle not a way of life. When you think of wars or battles, you think of someone winning, right? This is why I battle bipolar, lupus, fibromyalgia, because at the end of the day I win. With Christ in me, I win every time. And so for me setting aside a day to “recognize” bipolar was like giving it credit it absolutely does NOT deserve. bipolar you are so big and bad that you get your own day! No fricken way! And then for it to fall on the same day as Good Friday! My decision was clear. By not recognizing world bipolar day yesterday, I was saying this disease, I choose not to carry. He already carried it for me today, Good Friday. bipolar is not an extension of me, like my  hands and feet, those are taken. My feet run the race that is set before me (Hebrews 12:1) and my hands were made for this battle (2 Samuel 22:35 NIV). bipolar is not my identity. It is more like a very temporary mask that I wear, an ugly mask, a mask I did not ask for. But one that is worn and then torn down, ripped to shreds, stomped and spit on when I win the battle for the day. This very disease that wanted to steal the limelight for yesterday was not even given a second look. The bipolar that TRIES to still my life at times DIED on Good Friday. This evil, sickening spirit that is bipolar just needs a constant reminder that it has, in fact been defeated some 2,000 years ago. I choose Jesus. He was going to get all of the attention, the limelight, and the glory yesterday for what He did for me. And on Sunday when I celebrate with my family His resurrection I will rejoice in the fact that one day soon I will be with Him pain free forever.

John 11:25 NIV , 1 Peter 1:3 NIV, Romans 10:9 NIV







Life hasn’t been easy as of late. I’ve been in a lot of pain. And struggling with the bipolar as well. I’ve had quite a few down days and days where my mind just doesn’t feel like my own. I feel possessed by the illness on days like that. I do a lot of praying. LoL! Now this is new. I’ve started to get claustrophobic in the shower EVERY time I get in. The upside is, this makes for quick showers. It used to be just elevators.Not anymore. Even the car can get me, I have to have my music playing.

Right now I’m on 30 mg of morphine and I’m in so much pain I can’t sleep. It has been on and off today…the pain. Sharp shooting, stabbing, and even a dull ache. Mostly in my legs and feet. Restlessness of my arms and legs when I do lay down.

I still refuse to let it all get me down…..completely. Yeah, it’s hard. Really hard. But the Lord didn’t say it was going to be easy. This is WAR! War on my body. War on my mind. But that’s okay. I’m up for a fight.

My little Lily dog is doing well. She is so smart! And sassy! I just love her to pieces.

Happy Anniversary, Me!

Sometimes I just don’t know what I’m doing. Am I moving forward or backwards. Am I breathing or is it just my imagination. I don’t know where I’m going and the road is thin. My head pounds and my feet beneath me hurt. I keep moving. Most times it’s a cycle. Feeling trapped in my own body. I get up for the day. I make it through the day and go to sleep. The pain I sometimes feel resonates through my body, always starting from my chest. A ball…..a big, black swirling ball, or so I imagine. It thrusts around  in my chest. I can feel the anxiety start to birth. The physical and emotional pain begins to swell. ” Is this real,” I ask myself. It always is. As a child I would pound my chest my fists to try to dull the anxiety and pain. This usually worked. Again, I didn’t know what or why I was doing it. I just wan’t it all to go away. Now I’m covered in labels. Sometimes not knowing can be freeing…knowledge isn’t always power. The pain I feel and then the pain I want to inflict to make the other pain go away has no schedule. It doesn’t care if I’m happy or sad, ready or not.

Other days I can be in a store or getting gas or you name it and the panic swoops in. First I begin to shake. Then the sweat begins to pour from every pore on my body…even my hair gets wet. Again, is this real? The road appears really thin now. My throat shuts off and my breathing becomes labored. My vision blurred and I have to go to the bathroom. Am I dying? Nope, just a panic attack.

And so as I try to make sense of it all and mulling through my days, I continue to fight the good fight.

It has been 1 year since I have caused self harm. I believe God has freed me from it. Not to say I don’t want to at times, but I just remind myself that my body is a living temple of God, filled with His spirit.