The great love and mercy of the Lord strengthened me in a year of turmoil. It wasn’t always easy to believe in God’s goodness for me. I struggled for years with hypomania from bipolar Disorder which I was diagnosed with in my late teens. I would experience moods from euphoria to depression. I was on a great trajectory and hadn’t had any major episodes for a decade. Then my health and faith were tested.

Since mental illness is a chronic illness it can go away and then reappear in times of stress. It was the end of summer during the pandemic and things had gone downhill. 

I sat in my parents backyard with a cup of tea, a bowl of oatmeal and a book. I slumped over in the chair, letting the sun soak on me; I was exhausted. 

I had recently broken up with a boyfriend, moved back into my parents house because of black mold in my apartment, and the climate at work was intense. The break in routine and comfortability and predictability were making my moods spiral even more.

I had missed work for another day in a row. I was waking up in the middle of the night shouting and disoriented. Once my sleep is affected things go sideways fast. 

I was an emotional mess, losing sleep and spiraling into mania, and on top of that, my medicine was no longer working. My thoughts became mixed up and I started to joke I was the CEO of Awesomeness - a title I gave myself after rewatching ads for a Masterclass online. I would speak to an imaginary audience on my parents patio, describing the content of my own “Masterclass” tutorial. I was full of energy even though I was not getting enough rest.

It felt different from the last time when I was sick and I was in high school. Before, I could hide away. I missed some classes. I had a few friends that would notice. But now, there was more to disturb and more at risk: The freedom of living on my own, my employment, and my community. 

I started to lose hope and felt the weight of stress and fatigue cling to my body. My mind raced and I felt like I was the only one who could do anything to fix it.

I sat on the porch, frustrated with God.

“Why did you permit this to happen to me again? Why couldn’t you heal me completely of this disease? Why must I suffer again” I asked God. “It feels like I am losing everything! Deep down I know that you are good and nothing escapes you. But why can’t you deliver me from this mania?”

All I wanted to do was avoid hospitalization and get better in the comfort of home, but that was becoming more and more unrealistic

It was about that time that with my family members encouragement and intervention though, I went to the hospital.

While in the hospital, all I could do was just recall what I knew and had experienced in the past.

I didn’t feel it in the moment, but kept trying to go back to the mercy when I was first hospitalized as a teenager. I held on to the memory of recovery and health. 

I remember one night, I spoke on the phone with my spiritual director early in the evening. 

Spiritually, I was in a dry season and felt alone. It made me feel sad that I didn't feel God's presence so readily. I felt alone because I was cooped up in my hospital room for 5 days due to a covid outbreak and I couldn't visit with any of the other patients or my family. I also felt so alone in my experience of mania and psychosis.

We talked about feeling lonely as I was away from my family. We talked about being present to the Lord while being stuck in a hospital room. He comforted me by sharing that the Lord is present to me even when it doesn’t feel like it. He told me he would pray for me and send a spiritual hug. 

Up until then, I had woken up several nights to patients barging in, trains outside, or night watch shining their light in my face. It felt like even in a place where I was supposed to be getting better, my sleep kept being stolen from me. That night, I also woke up to noise but it was different. 

I could feel the presence of Jesus. I felt a warmth surrounding me more than the warm blanket I had on. I knew it was the Holy Spirit comforting me. My prayer was answered and relief washed over me. I felt reassured that things would work out for the good.

Healing happened as the new medicine started to be effective but God was also teaching me not to rely on my own strength. I felt stronger in the knowledge that I am loved and that I matter. I made plans to work on my book writing and work towards publishing it. I opened myself up to new possibilities of meeting new people and making new friends.

I felt a new sense of self and well being. I could see my dreams and goals ahead of me and felt that I could achieve them. Confidence in God made my faith grow stronger and I didn’t give up on hope. Who else could I turn to in my time of distress? “Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words that give eternal life.” - John 6:68

I felt my heart was being strengthened. 

At the hospital, my interior life became filled with a lot more time for personal prayer. Having conversations with the Lord in the quiet of my heart helped me to carry on. I participated in daily mass, prayed the rosary, and went to the divine mercy chaplet. These prayers brought me into the presence of the one comfort I could rely on—outside of friends, family, or my own will. It became instant comfort and familiarity to me in such an uninviting hospital environment. 

The more I got back on my feet, the more I started to understand that a moment in pain or desperation did not mean going backward, but God was teaching me a deeper, more mature reliance on him. 

After a few months of being on leave, I began thinking about returning to work and I leaned into all the prayer, self-care tools, and scripture to support my mental health. “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” (Philippians 4:6 NRSV)

Now out of the hospital, I can see the Lord’s love for me in it. It was space to receive His care. It was in the friendships I made, the food prepared for me, the time to rest and the time to visit with family. 

I learned that God is faithful, even when circumstances feel like we’re being taken out of what we know or feels steady. He will never leave me. He was with me through the upheaval and the rise to health.

My conversations with him still cover everything: I talk to God telling him how frustrated and disappointed I am at times. I plead with him for healing. I ask my friends to pray for me. And I rejoice in where He has healed and loved me.

Bipolar disorder hasn’t magically disappeared. I’ve put in the work to make sure my mental health and my spiritual health is strong, God is always providing for me in the rough times and the best times. I accept that this illness is life long and I know there will be times of flourishing and times of languishing, but that doesn’t change who God is and that he will be with me through all of it.