Leaning Into His Light

I remember spending days in the dark, sobbing uncontrollably for hours on end. When I was not at work, I was home alone, wallowing in my despair. Years of anger had finally caught up with me. I believe it was Sigmund Freud who stated, “Depression is anger turned inward,” and I cannot agree more.

Anger at my extended family for the way I was alienated simply because my mother and I refused to conform to their cookie-cutter way of thinking. Anger at my peers for tormenting me because I was not like them. Anger at my biological father for being an incapable parent who failed to support me when I needed him most. Anger at myself for any mistakes I have ever made.

An overall rage consumed me after years of dealing with insufferable people in my life whom I never felt safe with. I was never able to be me. I was on constant guard because I never knew which one would attack next.

My mother and stepfather (dad) are the only people in my life who have supported me regardless of my state of mind and despite any missteps I have made. They were the ones there to pick me up. Every. Single. Time. They have always had my back, even when they disagreed with me. They are the very definition of unconditional love.

I am unable to fathom how my depressed state must have affected them. Everything they tried failed to rescue me from the depths of my depression. I stayed at their home many nights when I was afraid that I would permanently harm myself. I remember their pained expressions when they saw I had scratched down my face in desperation. The looks of horror when I told them I would slam my head into the wall or hit it with pots and pans when the sadness became unbearable.

I saw myself as a burden. I did not want my parents to have to worry about or care for me. I had always struggled asking for help, and in the moment when I needed it most, I refused. I was determined not to rely on others. I distinctly remember screaming at God, asking why He would not let me leave. Pleading with Him to just let me go.

On yet another night at my parents’ home, I finally listened to their concerns and willingly accepted their help. It was then that we all held hands (my younger sibling was also present) to pray. My mother prayed for a hedge of protection around me. My parents prayed for God to intervene and guide me; to free me. I just sobbed.

In that moment of prayer, everything changed. Beforehand, I knew of God, but I did not know God. I did not actively walk out my faith, pray, or read my Bible. I was ignorant of the true blessing of Jesus Christ. God intervened on my behalf then, now, and looking back, always.

He guided me to a doctor who diagnosed me with Bipolar Disorder and put me on medications that had an immediate positive impact, without side effects. An occurrence that is atypical for someone with this illness. He led me to a counselor who helped me understand what my diagnosis meant and the skills to manage its nuances. He created an opportunity for me to attend a Dialectical Behavior Therapy class, where I learned practical techniques to regulate myself. If all that was not enough, He blessed me with a rescue dog who was the motivation for me to get out of bed every morning.

The most profound gift God bestowed upon me was a message directly from Him. My mom and I asked an elder to pray over me. While she prayed, she told me she had a message for me. Suddenly, she started speaking in tongues, Aramaic, and delivered a message in the first person to me. She addressed the obstacles I faced and the heartache I endured – things she did not know of – and told me that my wounds would be healed, my depression bound up to envelope me no more. All three of us sat in stunned silence after the moment passed. The elder had never spoken in tongues before. My mother and I had never experienced anything so surreal. To this day, my depression has never overtaken me again.

Truth be told, I could not have written this article a few years ago. I was still struggling with the acceptance of my diagnosis and the feeling of being a flawed, unlovable human being who would never be good enough for another. I felt sadness and loneliness while circling my mountain, but by God’s grace and mercy, I have never been sucked into the muck of depression again. My journey has taken years…I was diagnosed in 2006.

“So to keep me from becoming conceited because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, a thorn was given to me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from being conceited. Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in your weakness.’ Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”

Managing Bipolar Disorder takes a daily commitment that begins with prayer and relies on His strength. I am fortunate to be a high-functioning individual capable of working and leading a healthy life. Many who share this illness are completely debilitated by its struggles, and some spend most, if not all of their lives institutionalized. Bipolar Disorder is classified as a disability and handicaps many. I believe in miracles because I am one. Thanks be to God for saving me.

 

Carley Dangona