I woke up in a solid white room.
Alone, strapped to the bed.
“You have Bipolar Disorder,” they said.
They gave me a diagnostic code to replace
My points per game, GPA, and SAT score.
I would need treatment the rest of my life.
I spent most of the next year heavily medicated.
I prayed to God, but couldn’t hear a response.
I read the Bible, but the message escaped me.
I tried to write, but the words wouldn’t come.
Mostly I slept, and ate, and took pills.
My mind was a thick fog.
One day Alice was taking a nap with the children.
A friend stopped by to take me for coffee
I left a note which read –
“Dear sugar bear,
Gone to the mountains to pick blueberries.
Be back by Spring.”
The church was wondrously generous.
They provided me paid leave.
They stopped by with meals.
They watched Sarah and Grace
When Alice and I had appointments.
Eventually, I went back to work full time.
But I had nothing left for home (or so I thought).
Alice was fed up.
She decided to get a job,
Then a divorce.
We went for counseling as a last resort.
In counseling, the fog started to lift.
Not overnight, but gradually, and steadily.
I asked Alice to stay
And she agreed, thank God.
the story begins…
the story continues…