“Listen,” she said. “Hear me,” she whispered.
Voices in her head validated what she heard.
Even with proven logic she was stirred,
The possibilities were too great to have deferred.
Tangible in spirit, angels gathered near,
And the devils followed them there, itching to hear.
The reality of the unseen wasn’t something to fear,
It was the lust for the untouchable hurdles she wanted to clear.
Lady Manic, she was known, to the shrewd and cunning Mister.
Sir Madness, her unmatched suitor, he wouldn’t resist her.
She played to his schemes, his subtle plans enthralled her.
Soon, according to Sir Madness, only he could call her.
Flirting with the master of irresistible temptations,
She laid open to twirling thoughts and tantalizing elations.
Like a phantom of her mind’s secret infatuations,
She succumbed to be found in questionable situations.
Once he lifted her too high, she panicked at the height,
She braved the quickening sensations amidst the fright.
At first glance it was glee in anyone’s unwitting sight,
Until it was too late to do anything but fall from the flight.
Perhaps she was naive, overzealous and of youth,
Perhaps he was too masterful for her mind to tell the truth.
Whichever way it was, it was now in hindsight error,
The affection they once shared was now a twisted terror.
Should she be prey to his next violent plan,
She couldn’t save herself, no one could, not any man.
The step after delight could be more than insanity,
The logical plan to follow was the bane of humanity:
Depths of loathing and sorrow crawled out from the pit of Hell,
In shrouds of darkness they came moaning, cleverly casted like a spell.
This misery appeared inevitable to keep her from her Lord’s Heaven,
It seemed the day turned into night without her knowing when.
For nights came for days and try as she might will then,
No amount of pulling by her bootstraps would let her go again.
Now the words fled her mind and mouth where joy once filled,
Meaning evaded her spirit, whose strength none could rebuild.
Confusion mounted its cavalry and crafted artillery from its guild,
Here the war on her psyche ambushed, her sanity, all but killed.
Abandoned by her guide to the skies and traitor to the pit,
She remembered her chance given before so again she sought it.
In the lion’s lair she knew who else had gone ahead,
The sacrifice that died to pay the ransom on her head.
She surged her strength to call upon the name of Him once dead,
“Give me my life, You paid my price, redeem my life instead!”
The only One who was there for her from birth swiftly came,
The test was passed and she could leave the dungeon of her shame.
Alas Sir Madness could not call on her, he had no viable claim,
Since all along she was betrothed to the Lord of Lords: Jesus, was His name.
Victory crowned Him, from overcoming Sir Madness and his lies,
Lady Manic was no longer known as Manic but as Wise.
The deception that once bewitched her could no longer rise,
Since she set her sights on nothing but her truthful Savior’s eyes.
“Listen,” she said. “Hear Him,” she whispered.
Voices left her head and love was all she heard.
The sound of her heart was true of the passion that was stirred,
Each beat was hope fulfilled and was no longer deferred.
Healing is definitely the hand of God on my mind – I consider that I’m healed as it pertains to the elimination of symptoms and side effects. I take medication daily and believe that’s the course God has set me on for a personal healing of bipolar disorder. I don’t have the symptoms – praise God. However, I want to be clear that I recognize I’ll always have bipolar disorder this side of heaven, tempered and treated by medication. I don’t think I’m healed, as in, cured. That is a different thing altogether. To be cured would be like a deliverance of it, but that’s not possible. People aren’t usually cured miraculously of most disorders or illnesses. That’s just not a typical healing. But God has graciously given me the exact dosage of medication I need to function and thrive in life, and for that I know He sustains me, upholds me, and maintains my sound mind. To me, that is healing.
~ Katie R. Dale
Healing means living better within the challenges of mental illness.
So often I want my daughter to be “all better” or I want feel “all better” in my eating disorder. But in reality, we can’t necessarily be “all better” with a mental illness like we can a cold or stomach ache.
Mental illness is ongoing, with days that are really good and feel great and other days that just suck. However, I’ve come to learn that while my daughter and I may not be all better, we can learn how to live better within our illnesses, celebrating good days, understanding our triggers, caring for ourselves on down days, and managing/adjusting treatment as needed.
Accepting and learning how to live WITH our mental illnesses as part of life has created, for us, a general sense of living better. This frame of mind has been healing for our whole family.
— Leanne Sype
April Roberts Cohen was born, um, er, well, two years before I was. Her name was going to be Karen, but when she was born April 9, our parents were divinely inspired to name her April. From a human perspective, this helped them remember her birthday.
Jen Anne (Johnston) Riddle and I met in April 2009 while I was visiting my sister in Boston. Jen was my sister’s roommate. I was there to see my sister run in the Boston Marathon. They were part of an intentional Christian community and I was the lucky man who had brother privileges. I stayed in an empty room next to Jen’s room. About a year later, we struck up daily phone conversations that led me to two more Boston trips for long weekends of dating around the city. Our first kiss was in a public park in Salem, Massachusetts. You may say I was bewitched.
She had courageously left Boston to live close to me in Columbus, IN in August 2010. She was able to transfer Masters of Divinity credits to Christian Theological Seminary and continue her career working with children with autism.