The book I have burdened on my heart is going to be told. Believe it or don’t – I will persevere.
The beginning of my book should read like a scary story. I want gripping, traumatic writing and a sheer point of terror so that the reader is as afraid as I was. I want to intrigue them in the oddity of the psychiatrist and captivate them with the sound of demon’s voices in their minds. I want them to experience the overwhelming sensation and undergo the weight of my anxiety. And then I want them to wait…because in the waiting and the holding pattern they need to press on for the answers, or they wouldn’t find them after all.
I want to draw them into my world and give them the key to the brain I had at sixteen and twenty-four and give them a taste of the sight of a psychotic person who has a break from reality. I want the reader to know what it feels like to be beaten and bruised spiritually, emotionally, mentally, so that I can change the way the church looks at mental illness. So that I can change the way anyone sees the diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder and can uncover the gruesome reality of what it is. Expose the ugliness of the disease, just like the ugliness of those voices that ripped into my head.
I want to share this with the world because there is dark, and being sheltered from it does not eliminate it but rather shields one from the counter reality of truth: the healing power of Jesus’ name. Jesus transformed my mind, and renewed it and healed it and today I stand healed because His bloodied body and whipped flesh made it so that I could be comforted and understood, cared for and found, healed and made whole. This is my heart’s desires. This is where the meat of the story will come from.
There is a purpose I went through mania and depression.
I will not fail at fulfilling it.