For eight years you have controlled my life. You infected me at 15 and slowly, quietly, limb by limb, your vines have burst through the membrane of my soul and grown into every part of me. You have settled in, hidden, but in total authority over my body and my mind. Your vines grew longer and stronger every year, watered only by my own self-hate, anxieties, and codependent tendencies. You made me dependent on you. Not only did you move throughout my body but you destroyed everything in your path along the way, until the only way I could move, the only way I could breathe, the only way I could survive was through you. But that’s how you work, isn’t it? You damage people so badly that they become fully dependent on you and fully at your disposal. We become hollow shells, bodies without souls. You empty us of all of our humanity and fill in the gaps with your tyranny. We do not think except for that which you allow us to think. We do not feel except that which you want us to feel. When you infect us, we disappear, and you begin your reign of terror.
You made me a slave to your mountains and valleys. I have been so high–where you have brought me. I spread my wings and soared with the birds while you watched and laughed as you made me believe I could fly. But I couldn’t; you knew I couldn’t. But you brought me to those heights so the fall into the canyons would be tremendously more destructive, and consequently, more entertaining to you. Sadistically, you threw me into the air to see how hard I would crash and then you smiled the whole way down. Why? Why is your only seeming sense of pleasure my pain and suffering?
I’ll stop asking why. That question doesn’t matter anymore. I learned a long time ago that “why?” is not a question you can answer. You are not human. You have no sense of morality. You are an illness. A disease. A parasite. Your purpose is to infect and destroy. You have done that successfully.
I was but a child when we met. In the midst of an identity crisis, you came to me with promises of love and fulfillment. With you I was happy, I was powerful, I was productive. I could go for days without sleep, reading and writing and coming up with ideas. I was greater than anyone, smarter, more talented. These are things you gave to me. And I embraced them. Which made it so much harder when you took it all away and watched me disintegrate into dust. I went from being the best to being worthless. I went from happiness to despair. You filled my head with plans and hope for the future and then left me with nothing but a longing to die.
For eight years you have been my master. But you do not get to own me anymore. I am not a prop that you can use for your dirty work. I am not a vessel to contain your disease. I will no longer submit myself to your authority. I will no longer be your slave. Matthew 6:24 says that I cannot serve two masters. I will always hate one and love the other; be devoted to one and despise the other. I must decide who I allow that master to be. Guess what?
I do not choose you.
While you desire nothing but my destruction, I choose the God of my restoration. He has the power and the ability to repair what you have destroyed. While you attempt to take my humanity and fill me with disaster, God wants to fill me with his Holy Spirit. I am no longer a slave to you, I am a child of God. My thoughts, my words, my actions are for the Father, not you. My emotions, my life, and my existence are for Him, not you. Your vines will no longer grow inside of me. You will no longer be watered by my anxieties and self-hate. I am ruled by a king. And you are now exiled from his kingdom.
Okay, now I know some part of you may always be inside me. You’re weaved into my skin and stuck to my bones. I may be with your remnants for the rest of my time on this Earth. Your elements may always be within me looking for a gap to plant itself in so that you may grow and possess me once more. Yes, you might always be there. But this does not contradict anything I said before.
You are a part of me. But you do not own me. I. Own. You. You are mine, under my control, under my power. You took possession of me for your purpose, now you get to be used for mine. And unlike you, I do not live for destruction. I live to further my Father’s kingdom and I am going to use you to do it. Genesis 50:20 says “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good.” The tables have turned. You work for me now. And what was once a relationship of death, is now one of life. I am going to use you to do some good in the world, and there’s nothing you can do about it.
So thanks. Thank you for bringing me to a place so low that I was forced to turn to the only one powerful enough to heal me, Jesus Christ. Without the depths of despair that you brought into my life, I would not have been led to the redeeming grace of my savior and friend. Thank you for giving me a story to share the world. Our dance, our battle, our individual struggles for the rights to my body will all be used for God’s great purpose. You are a tool of the enemy. But my God is bigger and stronger and better than any other force in existence. You are now a tool in His plan. I thank God that He has trusted me with it.
Galatians 2:20 says “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”
My God is bigger than my highs and my lows. My God is bigger than your highs and lows. What are you to a God? What are you to the King of Kings? To Him you are nothing, and He happens to be my Father.
So, sorry, bipolar disorder, but you do not control me. You have no power here.
I serve a different Master now.
A Child Of The King.