Today is Bipolar Awareness Day.
When I was first diagnosed, I ran. Ran hard from this label. I was terrified of what it meant, of what it said about me, that it meant I was weak.
If I was strong enough, I could buck up and move on.
You can't buck up.
This disorder is powerful, it kicks your tail in ways that most can't imagine. The mania is spastic and out of control, while the depression cripples and phyiscally hurts. All mixed with anger and frustration, all in one 24 hour span. The cycling leaves you questioning. Questioning your identity, which side of the cycle is really you? Questioning if you can keep going. Are you hurting others, your family, you kids? Is it fair that they are dealing with this? When are they going to give up and leave?
Questions, tons of hard, painful questions.
I don't have all the answers, heck I have very few answers. But I do know this. I am not bi polar, I have bipolar. Just like I have dark hair, blue eyes, or my second toe is longer then my big toe, it is apart of me, not me. Not my identity.
My identity is in God. I am who He says I am. I am His child, who He has trusted these children to, this marriage to, these friends to, I live through His power. Not through my bipolar.
Even in my darkest, scarest days, while I spinning like a top, He's there.
He's bigger than me.
He's bigger than my bipolar.