There are certain feelings that comes with what I am about to write. I’m not sure if it is humiliation, shame, guilt, sadness, or regret, perhaps it is all of the above. Simultaneously, there is gratefulness and joy in knowing it lies behind me, that it was the right thing at the time and that I grew from the experience.

We all have different thoughts on mental health short and long term facilities. These places conjure up many visions in our minds- mostly from what we’ve seen on T.V. But to find one’s self as a resident in one of these hospitals is an experience that is never forgotten. I have tried to say I didn’t belong there, the few pills I swallowed didn’t require this treatment. I wasn’t like the others. I wasn’t crazy! I would be wrong.

I was exactly where I needed to be; a place where I was safe from myself and the never ending thoughts that had encompassed my every minute. They circled around and around like a fast moving merry-go-round within my mind.  I’m not sure how long I’d been sinking. Did suicide become a daily thought, hourly thought or weekly thought, I don’t know. Did I ever say anything out loud? Did I reach out? I have no idea.  I was living two lives- the normal me (of which I have no recollection, but people had no idea I was such a mess, so she must have been there too, right?) and the, “I can’t take no more” me. She was exhausted.  I had obviously been sinking for quite some time.

My marriage was broken, but we tried to stay together. I became an overwhelmed mother, an employee that was working insane hours. I wasn’t paying bills, I was spending money uncontrollably on what, I do not know! Did I eat? I don’t think so, but I can’t remember. Did I sleep? No. I was working graves at a hospital and being a mom during the day. Any sleep I got was riddled with noise and interruptions.

The result was- I grabbed a few of the sleeping pills the doctor gave me (he had no idea, at the time, that I was suicidal or even bipolar). When I woke up, I was in a mental health hospital and I couldn’t even go outside without permission, and only during a certain time of day. I couldn’t use my makeup, hair products, eat, or leave my area. I was now safe from myself- because all freedom was removed.

I had become a slave to my own thoughts, my own illness, my own weaknesses. Not that I am declaring mental illness to be a weakness. The weakness was my inability to trust God through the episodes of the illness, and to get the proper help needed to get through it all, my weakness was the hiding I did in false hope of thinking I was strong!  This is my personal opinion on my own personal journey. Today, while I am enjoying life outside of mental health facilities, and living within the markers of ‘normal’, I know without any doubt, that I was weak, and instead of allowing His strength to fill me, I turned my back on the Lord for a very long time. I’ve since traveled my bipolar journey with God leading the way, and I’ve had a very different outcome through each episode. Praise Jesus!

Back to the story…

With no freedom, I was left alone with my thoughts, with others much like me, others very different from me and a staff of highly experienced counselors. Every move I made was being evaluated and written down. If I ate 10 bites of lunch or 2, it was recorded. If I took part in fitness time or sat and did nothing, it was recorded. I came up on my first evaluation, I’m not sure how many days, but I failed. I was told I could not leave and if I wanted to argue this, I would have to take it up with the state doctors, who had the authority, given my reason for being there, to decide whether I was a threat to myself or not.

There I was, sitting in a hospital with people from all walks of life: men, women, alcoholics, drug addicts, bipolar, schizophrenic, anorexic, and panicked. We shared one wing. We were together..exercised together, shared in group together and watched one t.v. together. For the days ahead..this became my life. There was a time to eat, bathe, talk, and be quiet, and a whole lot of time to think!

Where did my thoughts, actions, words, and demeanor take me? What was the outcome of this stay? What does locked away and free mean? How have the years since always been impacted by that time in my life?

Stay tuned as I go back to the hospital, and share with you some of those experiences, and just how God used this time to create a new me and implement a new game plan!

  Lord, by such things people live; and my spirit finds life in them too.

You restored me to health and let me live. Isaiah 38:16 (words of Hezekiah)

 This blog discussion in no way is meant to replace a diagnosis, treatment plan or help of a professional doctor or counselor. If you are in need of medical help, I advise you to seek the assistance of your medical team immediately.

I’ve had a series of events take place over the last week that has exhausted my mind, heart and spirit. While I’m on a reload and re-energize mission, I’ve repeatedly shared with others just how good God is. Through these trials I am so blessed and thankful He’s with me!

There was a time I couldn’t face the days of trials with this same joy. A time that strength was hard to come by, and the weight of darkness would truly hold me down. God is aware of our struggles. He is also made perfect in our weakness. When we are grasping for a foothold, He is whispering his words of comfort and building a perch below our feet. You can always be bold, always be courageous and always be strong, because He is living in you!

Believe today that God has your back. What He supplies will not be found in anything of this world. His Word is your light and your guide. His hand is always ready, His love is always present. You are never alone. You are never forgotten. You, my beloved, are His- a child of the Almighty God!

Take a moment to reflect on the following five verses and to really

proclaim His victory in your life!

From the Life Application Bible-

1. Philippians 4:13 - I can do all things because Christ gives me strength
   

2. Isaiah 40:31 - But they who wait upon the Lord will get new strength. They will rise up with wings like eagles. They will run and not get tired. They will walk and not become weak.

3. Psalm 28:7-8 - The Lord is my strength and my safe cover. My heart trusts in Him, and I am helped. So my heart is full of joy. I will thank Him with my song. The Lord is the strength of His people. He is a safe place for His chosen one.

4. Ephesians 3:16 - I pray that because of the riches of His shining-greatness, He will make you strong with power in your hearts through the Holy Spirit.

5. 1 Chronicles 16:11 - Look to the Lord and ask for His strength. Look to Him all the time.

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 This blog discussion in no way is meant to replace a diagnosis, treatment plan or help of a professional doctor or counselor. If you are in need of medical help, I advise you to seek the assistance of your medical team immediately.

This past year I found a new job. I’ve been managing the church office at a local church. I was ecstatic to find this opportunity. I have weekends off!  This alone brought a smile to my face. I took the job in February, and eagerly waited for May and June to arrive. I had visions of hiking in the mountains, picnics in the park, and bbq’s with the family.

As the summer began to emerge with the longer days, I found myself suddenly fastened to my house. I wanted to go out and enjoy the many activities available in this beautiful mountain state I call home. Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be. Slowly, I watched June pass, then July, on to August and now I’m sitting in September.

I didn’t share with too many people the struggle I had in leaving the house. I made attempts to set a plan, but backed out constantly. The one day I did manage to head out to enjoy some sun, I kept it to two hours and quickly made my way home.

I was taken aback by my inner unwillingness to venture out into the nature I truly love. I was fine as long as I was busy doing my wife, mom and living things- such as shopping, running my son around or the many other things we do in managing life and home. But to head out to relax or be engaged in a hobby or extracurricular activities wasn’t going to happen. I finally threw up my hands and said, “You win.”

Did you realize that everything in scripture is about Life- the Book of Life, the love story of the New Testament is to bring us the truth on our ‘new life’ in Christ Jesus, the everlasting breath of eternal life, the very breath of God to begin life, water of life, tree of life…it can go on and on.

While I was walking, driving, working, running, talking or breathing throughout this summer, my depression had made an entrance and slowly drained life from me. I was merely a walking pile of emptiness.  While this is the battle we tolerate while “living” with Bipolar Disorder, please don’t ever think it’s one we want or even choose.

Only one scripture kept coming to mind- Ephesians 4:1, a reminder that I am chosen! I am called as a believer in Jesus Christ to live a life worthy of my calling.

I am chosen. I am chosen. I am chosen. I sat repeating this to myself over and over, until the words were a salve to the wounds of my mind.

I am chosen. Chosen to LIVE a life worthy of my calling, for I have been called by GOD!

Sometimes, the only one I hear calling my name is my gas tank, stove, refrigerator, closet, laundry or bills. Yet before anything in my life has a chance to suffocate me, God has breathed His life directly into my soul.

You see, depression is sneaky. It is this flood that begins as a trickle, then a stream, to a river and then the wall of dispiritedness rushes over every part of your being, until what is left is barely breathing, as it fights to not drown in the flow of unending emotions, feelings and withdrawal.

So while my God is calling to me, “YOU ARE CHOSEN”, (1 Peter 2:9) I must battle to the surface to regain that power inside, calling to a loving Savior, reaching out my hands as I cry out to Him for mercy and help. (Psalm 28:2)

As long as we reach to our Jesus, He will be there to lift us up. He will be there as we seek Him in the midst of our darkest places, and He will restore our entire being by His love and grace.

This blog discussion in no way is meant to replace a diagnosis, treatment plan or help of a professional doctor or counselor. If you are in need of medical help, I advise you to seek the assistance of your medical team immediately.

While I made my way through the caverns of memories in hopes of resolving a few issues of the past, I found myself in a very familiar state. As I was driving to my Saturday counseling session, I realized I didn’t remember my week, or my last drive to see the doc. I didn’t remember any day of the last 7. I was terrified as I came to the realization of just how far this particular episode had gone.

I pulled into the parking lot, in tears. And when I stepped out of my car I said to myself, “I can’t do this anymore.” I couldn’t be this person that walked around on air, feet never touching the ground. That missed an entire week of time. I looked at my counselor and confessed, “I don’t remember driving here last week.”

I think I was quite the study for my wonderful helper at the time. He was tackling some big psychological problems. He was dealing with some traumatic events I needed to truly lay to rest and leave behind (as much as one can). He was traveling this healing journey while stepping on sensitive ground of a bipolar mine. I have never experienced patience and love like I did during our counseling sessions. If it seemed to be too much, he slowly backed off, giving me techniques to battle the anxiety that followed. He  gave me the time  I needed to truly climb the mountain of pain I was attempting to release.

We ended every session in prayer as he prayed for me, for him and for us-we were doing this together.   I prayed for understanding of my own mind all week. I cried to Jesus to help us both. I asked Jesus what I can do to rise in Him, and He said, with love, “Just keep talking to me.”

When I’m depressed, I have always found it hard to stay focused in prayer. When I prayed my mind wandered and honestly, I often stopped praying. Isn’t that what our down times do to us? We disconnect and stumble through our days in sadness, discouraged and downhearted. It took a great amount of strength to stay connected to the Lord, to family or to myself during this time. I had to force my mind to look up, my heart to remember where my joy came from- the Lord! I had to smile when everything inside said ‘don’t!’

I had to carry on, because to be without God during this difficult time, was not acceptable for me. I needed to keep communicating with Him, so that I could find my way out of the dungeon of my past, to remove all that Satan had poured into my mind about myself. I had to believe that God loved me enough to see me through to the other side; I had to trust in His love. If I stayed connected to my Father, I knew I would make it through this battle with depression, and this journey back in time. I was never alone, He was there in the midst of it all, with His great love, I won!

1 John 4:16

We know how much God loves us, and we have put our trust in his love.

God is love, and all who live in love live in God, and God lives in them.

I was stunned into silence yesterday as the news hit the world that our beloved comedian, Robin Williams, had passed away. Quickly the news spread via social media, and slowly you saw an outpouring of condolences being sent, Rest in Peace Robin Williams being shared and favorite moments being played. He was truly a genius at his art, and gave us laughter throughout his career.

While we were laughing, he was managing his own life battles-alcohol and drug dependency, mental illness, career ups and downs, divorce, raising children, and so on it goes. He was a voice in the arena of depression. He shared his struggles often in attempts to raise awareness. Perhaps we overlooked that, because we didn’t want to be distracted from the laughter, the joy, the funny man who was Robin Williams.

I know the road traveled in depression. I’ve known it my whole life. With my first attempt at suicide at the age of 13, when I swallowed some odd number of Tylenol pills. I just found myself extremely ill the following day. I remember working at a grocery store in my early 20’s, and every time I was at the end cash register, my view was toiletries and in the first aisle, razor blades. I would sit at my register all day and look over and say, “You should just do it.”

I spent time with therapists, counseling and mental wards. I’ve been on medication, I’ve reached out. I’ve been ok, I’ve been a wreck. I’ve experienced mental black outs due to the darkness that overcame me. I’ve stayed in bed for days, stopped eating, hid from family and friends. I’ve attended functions with a smile, while feeling hopeless on the inside. I’ve cried to the point of endless tears, and sat in solitude when the well dried up.

I read this morning that the final act of suicide is about being desperate. I’m not an educated expert on this subject, I’m a living one. And while I’m obviously still alive and well, I can confirm in my own experience that the moment I put a handful of pills in my mouth or drank that half bottle of alcohol that probably should have killed me, I wasn’t desperate, I was tired. Yes, tired of the battle, the pain, the fear, the worry and the feeling of worthlessness and inadequacy.  This list could go on and on. For some reason, my brain just couldn’t cope and while I wanted “desperately” to just be, I was tired of the trying and failing to overcome that inner battle of being overwhelmed. How others coped so naturally just didn’t come to me so easy, and I was tired.

People want there to be an easy answer to explain depression, I’ve even heard people refer to it as weakness, which it’s not.  For a short time I expect people will be posting mental illness awareness banners on their social media pages. “Mental Illness is a serious problem, please help”..and the many things people lovingly share at times of sadness. There is no easy answer. The brain is complex. Depression brings about emotional turmoil, life changing behavior, physical changes, social despondency and many other life altering challenges. While many people will forget about depression and the effects it has within a few days, for many it will remain real for the rest of their lives.

How can you really help?  Stop judging, stop trying to ‘explain’ mental illness, for even those of us who battle this war can’t explain it. Be aware, be compassionate, be prepared. If you pray, pray. In my darkest moments, I wanted help, I really did. It wasn’t easy. Each day felt like I was being held down by giant hands pushing me into a pit of failure, and my worst days, that giant stood laughing.  

Honestly, I’m not sure there were words to help me through depression, and since I have bipolar, there certainly weren’t words to help me through being manic. I found relief when I began to seriously educate myself on my condition, to recognize my own warning signs, and to commit to believing I was still valuable, I was still needed and I was still loved, and for me, above it all, I still believed in God, and that I was never alone inside myself, because He dwells there with me.

 While not every day has been shiny and sparkly since I began my healing journey in 2002, when I was hospitalized and under the treatment of a numerous care providers, but I’ve survived, I’ve carried on, I’ve fought to know life is worth staying. It’s not easy to get to that place, and I know I’m one of the lucky ones. As often, a person never gets there, no matter how hard they try.