Journals from a Broken Mind

03/30/2026

Today is World Bipolar Day.

I was diagnosed with Bipolar I disorder on March 3, 2006—over two decades ago. Research shows that up to 20% of individuals with bipolar disorder, particularly when untreated, die by su***de. It’s a serious illness that deserves awareness and compassion.

Although my diagnosis came later in life, I had been living with bipolar disorder for most of my life. My first su***de attempt happened when I was 15 years old. At that time, mental illness carried heavy stigma, and I never received a diagnosis or treatment. I spent another 19 years enduring severe mood episodes before finally getting answers.

I’m grateful there is a day dedicated to raising awareness about bipolar disorder. Knowledge is powerful. The more we understand this illness, the more lives we can help save.

While there is no cure, treatment can help people manage symptoms. But like any illness, even with treatment there can still be flare-ups.

I never imagined I would live long enough to become a grandmother. Today I have a precious granddaughter who brings immense joy into my life. Bipolar disorder could have easily robbed me of that blessing.

Every year on World Bipolar Day, I reflect on how misunderstood this illness still is. People sometimes say, “Everyone has mood swings.” While everyone experiences ups and downs, bipolar disorder is not simply a normal mood shift.

Bipolar disorder can push someone far outside the emotional range most people experience—often without any clear trigger. One day you may feel hopeful and grounded. The next day your brain may tell you that life isn’t worth living.

That’s not a normal mood shift. It’s the reality of a brain disorder.

Many people with bipolar disorder look “fine” on the outside while fighting intense battles on the inside. Stability requires constant work—sleep, medication, therapy, faith, and support systems.

If you know someone living with bipolar disorder, your compassion can make a powerful difference. 💚

03/16/2026

A friend asked me recently what my experience with ECT has been like, and I wanted to answer honestly.

ECT is one of those treatments people whisper about. Before I agreed to it, I carried the same fears most people do. Old movies and stigma had already written a scary story in my head.

But bipolar depression can bring you to a place where the question changes. It stops being “Am I afraid of this treatment?” and becomes “Is there anything that might help me stay?”

For me, ECT didn’t erase bipolar disorder. What it did was create space between me and the darkness. After months of heavy clouds in my mind, it felt like the sky finally cracked open enough for some light to get through.

I’ll be honest though— even when it helps, the fear doesn’t magically disappear. I still walk into treatments with anxiety. My body remembers the headaches and fogginess that can come afterward.

But I also remember the darkness that came before it.

For me, maintenance ECT is not a sign of failure. It’s part of the fight to stay.

And my faith carries me through it. I believe I am a precious child of God, and nothing—not bipolar disorder, not treatments, not my hardest days—can separate me from His love.

If you’re considering ECT and feeling afraid, you’re not weak. Fear and hope can sit in the same chair.

Sometimes courage is simply showing up anyway. 💙

01/17/2026

Faith in the Ordinary

Scripture:
“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.” — Lamentations 3:22–23 (NIV)

Not every season of life is dramatic. Some seasons are quiet, repetitive, and painfully ordinary. For those of us living with a mood disorder, stability can feel strange—almost empty—especially after years of intensity. When the crises subside, we may wonder whether our lives still carry meaning.

We often measure purpose by momentum. By milestones. By visible progress. But God measures faithfulness differently. Sometimes faith looks like getting out of bed, taking medication, keeping appointments, and choosing rest over chaos. Sometimes it looks like maintaining what has already been built rather than chasing what comes next.

Living between episodes requires a different kind of trust. It asks us to believe that ordinary days are not wasted days. That quiet seasons are not God’s absence, but His mercy. Stability is not stagnation—it is space where healing can take root.

The Lord’s compassion does not only meet us in emergencies. It shows up in routine. In repetition. In days that feel small but are sustained by grace. When nothing remarkable happens, faith is still happening.

If your life feels uneventful right now, take heart. You are not behind. You are not forgotten. You are being carried by a faithfulness that renews itself each morning—even on days that look the same as yesterday.

01/15/2026

Faith in the Fire

Scripture:
“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you… When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned.” — Isaiah 43:2

Faith does not always look like confidence. Sometimes it looks like endurance. Sometimes it looks like repeating truth when your mind refuses to cooperate. Sometimes it is nothing more than refusing to let go of Jesus when everything in you wants relief more than perseverance.

There are seasons when the fire does not lift quickly—when medication adjustments take time, when symptoms linger, when prayers feel unanswered. In those moments, faith is not proven by how calm we feel, but by what we cling to. God does not ask us to manufacture peace; He offers His presence in the middle of the flames.

Scripture never promises a life without fire. It promises a God who enters it with us. Bipolar disorder and trauma may intensify the heat, but they do not negate God’s nearness. When thoughts spiral and emotions surge, truth can still be held—even with shaking hands.

Faith in the fire is not heroic. It is honest. It is choosing to believe that God is still good when your experience feels anything but. It is trusting that He is at work even when healing comes slowly, imperfectly, or not yet.

If this season feels hot and unrelenting, hear this: you are not abandoned. You are not failing. And the fire does not get to define the ending of your story.

05/25/2025

Bipolar is a biological illness yet it presents so psychological. Instead of a high fever I present with irritability and agitation. Instead of physical pain I experience psychological pain. When I am symptomatic with bipolar, I have to get a grip. Grow up…act like a grown woman. I’m seen as immature and childish rather than symptomatic with a severe illness. I wish I spiked a high fever each time I was ill. At least then, I would receive compassion.

09/15/2024

09/15/2024

08/16/2024

Mom’s Dementia

Mom‘s dementia has picked up momentum. I’m aware it’s part of the illness, but it doesn’t make it any less painful to watch and it’s very sad. It’s only been six months since I last saw her, but I think she has lost 25 years of her memory in that time period. She has no idea who Brock Bo and Brennan are. She had no idea that I had children. She knows who Tim is and she knows KB, which I find rather odd, but I guess they go far enough back that she still remembers them. We watched the video of Babbie’s house together and she kept asking if the person talking was me? She said it didn’t look like me and it didn’t sound like me. The content was very confusing to her. She kept saying I’m trying to understand what’s being said. I sensed the anxiety in her voice and turned the video off. It’s hard to know what was so upsetting. Her ability to learn any new information about me is gone.

She’s much more feeble then I remember. She’s very slow and it’s effort to hear her voice when she talks. Observing all the digression, forced me into compartmentalization mode. Compartmentalizing allowed me to set aside the emotion and be present for the moment. I can process the intensity of my emotions at my next therapy appointment. Mom’s brain is shutting down. My brain is going 100 miles a minute.

Mom’s been in the same facility for two years, yet she doesn’t know a single person’s name. She’s nice to most people. One lady reminds me of how others view my bipolar. This sweet lady is confined to a wheelchair. She grunts to communicate. It’s scary to the other Residents. I make an intentional effort to pat and shake her hand. I gently rub her on the back and I talk to her like I understand what she is saying. Her grunts get louder with excitement when she sees me coming. Maybe a part of her feels understood and loved even though she’s different. Like bipolar, others don’t understand, so it creates fear. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. It breaks my heart for her and for those of us with bipolar.

Today mom and I sat outside and talked on her level. It’s like we talk but not about anything familiar with our previous relationship. She knows that I’m her daughter, but doesn’t know much about me. I got a video of us talking. She’s very confused, but I just try to go with it. Dementia is so bizarre. Any kind of brain disease for that matter is so bizarre. I struggle to know that God allows it to happen. He is allowing her brain to shrink one piece at a time sometimes two and three pieces at a time. I just want him to take her home. I don’t think I can handle watching her completely lose her mind to the point that she doesn’t know me. she’s 89. I want to be OK with whatever God brings. It’s just hard to watch the digression. She has lived a long life not a good one but a long one.

Today’s experience with mom was quite interesting. Every day is different. I never know what to expect when I walk through her door. She’s very confused. She was surprised by my visit though I have seen her twice already this visit, she doesn’t know where I was born. She remembered I had a brother, Davey. She doesn’t know where he was born. She asked about him. “He died mom.”

“Of what?”

“Do you remember Covid?” I said. She shook her head no. Thankfully, her brain doesn’t hold on to topics long, because I didn’t have it in me to explain such trauma. She saw the cat running around several times and got so excited each time. She’s moving backward rapidly. I haven’t cried once. Either my emotions are non existent or the circumstances are too overwhelming to allow tears to take over. I feel extremely sad. I’m all ripped up inside. Life is so full of emotion. I think sadness is one of the hardest for me. I wish I could outwardly experience pain and sadness. It hurts badly to hold it in.

I’m about to take off on the airplane from a fast and furious,yet very slow trip. I’m filled with grief. I feel like this is the last trip that mom will recognize me. I’m not naive and I’m not oblivious to know how dementia works. Thank you lord, for the time I’ve had with my immediate birth family. My childhood was hard, but I am the woman I am today because of the difficult early life. Thank you for my family today. I couldn’t be more grateful for Tim and my boys. Being a mom is the greatest gift in my life so far. Tim and I have a beautiful life together. I’m excited how God is growing my family.

07/15/2024

https://youtu.be/gU5ZAMXW2OA

My interview with Babbie Mason regarding mental health awareness. She has allowed me to use her platform to inform and educate others about mental health and the church. Thank you, Babbie! Lots of love!

05/15/2024

https://us06web.zoom.us/meeting/register/tZUqf-6qrjopHt2-2KGGa_Jn4KjlFCmDeAPd

DBSA WEBINAR MAY 20, 2024
6:30pm-7:30pm. Join us for education regarding mental health stigma.

05/13/2024

My husband is one of a kind. I married him for his money and celebrity status. Just kidding , he is an ordained senior adult pastor in a church. Certainly no money or fame there. He is an ordinary guy with quirks. I love him like I love myself. He is not perfect. But, he is my perfect fit. Opposites attract and Opposites have differences. It is definitely true in our case. Let me start with physical features. He is tall and I am short. His skin tans and mine burns. He lives off of hamburgers, hotdogs, chicken tenders,Cheetos, pizza and coke. I enjoy seafood, grilled chicken, a variety of fruits and vegetables and sweet tea.

My husband and I are worlds apart in how we connect relationally. He is a linear thinker. I think outside the box. I tell a story using color. His stories contain statistics and facts. He holds his emotion inside. I vomit mine out. There are times when he has no thoughts in his head. My thoughts never cease. He uses up all his words while he is at work. I unload my words when he gets home. His description of his day EVERYday goes like so:

Me: “How was your day?”

Husband: “Good.”

Me: “What was good about it?”

Husband: “Nothing bad happened.”

Me: “Nice.”

He rarely asks about my day. I do not know why. Maybe he doesn’t want to get tangled in my drama. Hopefully, you get the picture. We are both vinegar and oil and salt and pepper. Having a mood disorder in a relationship definitely adds to the challenges. But, the mood disorder is not the cause of all relationship challenges. Our mood disorder can definitely wreak havoc. But, even normies have issues. This devotion reminds me of the biblical passage “What is the greatest commandment?”

“Jesus replied: “ ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.””
Matthew 22:37-40 NIV

The first commandment is obvious. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ I think the first commandment for me is easier than loving my neighbor as myself. , I need to love my husband faults and all. If we all lived by that principle, we would never walk alone on our mood disorder journey. Consider ways you can love your neighbors. Who are your neighbors? Are neighbors people that are hard to love? Ponder what defines a neighbor? I challenge you to love them all like you love yourself. If you struggle to love yourself, consider yourself to be that neighbor you love.

05/02/2024

Tattoo

Now that many of you have seen my tattoo on Facebook, I want to explain its meaning. The semi colon in the Mental Health world symbolizes that your story goes on. Like the semi colon in grammar gives the sentence the ability to continue on. A period on the other hand ends the sentence. There are different phrases that express the meaning of the semi colon.
Still here fighting
My story isn’t over
No story should end too soon
I am enough
You matter
Live
I’m still here
I chose, “I’m still here,” because my favorite Christian artist ,Mandisa wrote a song titled “I’m Still Here”. For years, it has been my anthem song. She wrote the song after coming out of a deep dark mental health pit. She struggled with her mental health including suicidal ideations. My whole life I have struggled to fight suicidal ideations. The tattoo is very meaningful and I like being reminded that,”I’m Still Here,”on days when I don’t want to be.

May is Mental Health Awareness Month ❤️