I joined a local writer's group last month, and each month we are encouraged to write on a particular topic. This month was "Conflict". A million thoughts races through my head regarding what to write, conflict is such a broad topic. Most recently though, my conflict has been internal.



Mental Health issues are difficult to live with, as the sufferer generally tends to fear misunderstanding from the community at large. I myself struggle with this, especially as a Christian. I find it very difficult to 'balance' being a Christian with having Bipolar Disorder, this is not a combination that many people will readily accept. Somehow a mental illness is not inline with walking in faith, I must be doing something worng. I must not be praying enough, must not be in the word, must not be right with the Lord...because of course if I was doing all these things I would be fine and Jim-Dandy just like everyone else, right? It's so hard for me when I hear these things, or feel these kind of attitudes. I have an illness. If I had diabetes, cancer, heart disease or fibromyalgia, and didn't have the strength to get out of bed for a few weeks, people would be asking if they could pray for me, not why I hadn't been praying.


I remember very clearly, a couple of months ago, we went to church, and we were a few minutes late. When we arrived, the worship service had already begun, so we found our places and joined in the singing. I looked around and watched people with their hands raised, smiles on their lips, joy in their faces as they sang "He has made me glad, He has made me glad, I will rejoice for He has made me glad" I wanted to sing so badly, but I couldn't. I sat down with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes, and I whispered to God "I can't sing this song Lord, I won't stand in your house and sing lies. I'm not glad and I'm not going to lie about it. But one day Lord, I'm going to sing this song. I'm going to sing it loud and clear, because I know that day is coming, but it is not today"
There was such freedom in that moment. I had to leave because I was so overcome with emotion, but I felt so free in that moment of truth and acknowledgment.



This is the piece I wrote for February's Writer's Group on Conflict. It is representative of my internal battle with Bipolar, the light and darkness representing both hypomanic and depressive episodes and the spiritual elements at war within.



The battle rages on. Light against darkness, clashing like warriors in the fields. The darkness is heavy, oppressive. It smothers the light, tries to choke the life from it. The light dims, flickers...has darkness won? Has the light been snuffed? Has the very breath of life been stolen from the light, never to shine again?The darkness lies heavy, still and unmoving. It's weight is powerful, painful, crushing. Occasionally the darkness pulsates, but it is not a heartbeat, no. For the darkness does not have a heart. Tendrils develop and become entwined and entangled, pulling, tearing, pinching, scratching. The darkness is ever-moving, ever changing, ever torturing.But wait, what is that? A flicker of light? Was it not extinguished? Did the darkness not triumph? No, the light was merely weak, immobilized. The light is slowly gaining strength, burning brighter and stronger every moment.The tendrils of darkness begin to lose their grip. They become disentangled. As the light reaches them, they grow weak and fall away. The blanket of darkness loses density as the light reveals it. It melts in the warmth of the light, the throbbing drumbeat of darkness is overcome by the gentle lapping of waves. At last! The darkness has been banished! Gone forever, never to return. Alas, not so, my friend, not so. Like the light's hiatus, the darkness too has only temporarily stepped away from this conflict. But today, we shall bask in the warmth and the glow of the light, and pray it stays another day.