To my family and friends:
I’m sitting in the chair by my new bookcase, sipping some Corvus coffee while my fluffy pup, Beowulf, snoozes at my feet. I’ve been staring at my computer screen, wondering about how to start this post, and I’ve decided just to dive in.
As many of you know, I was diagnosed in 2013 with Bipolar I disorder. Since then, I’ve had three major episodes and what feels like a thousand mini ones. After the diagnosis, my life got turned upside down. I’d been a Christian my whole life, but I was, for the first time, confronted with some tough questions: Where is God in pain? Where is God in silence? And where in the world is God in mental illness?
These questions turned me away from my faith for a while. A long while, actually. I wallowed in my disbelief and turned, once again, back to disordered eating and an unhealthy body image. (Disordered eating = any kind of unhealthy relationship with food.)