Sarah Nyhan

Long story, but I ended up in the office of a psychiatrist. One that has been doing the damn thing for over 30 years. And who is advertised as specializing in bipolar disorder.

Bipolar disorder is not the reason I ended up there. But I call that out only because my biological father at one point was leaving comments over what seemed like everything of mine online. Telling people his opinion that I had bipolar disorder. Including one comment that is still as of this writing visible on one of my books that is available for sale on Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/Trial-Giving-Myself-Permission/dp/B09JJCMT65

My biological father even wrote a book about me. And included in the description of his book his opinion that I had untreated bipolar disorder:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DK9SQQXF/ref=pe_386300_440135490_TE_simp_item_image

And yet how wonderful was it to hear the psychiatrist with over 30 years of experience, who apparently specializes in bipolar disorder, tell me that I needed counseling more than I needed medication.

Finally.

The psychiatrist told me the meds I was being prescribed were just to aid in helping me navigate this very difficult time in my life. Until I could specifically get the actual real physical help I need. Along with the benefits of working through all the things in counseling.

Do I want my personal business out here in the streets? Absolutely not. But that ship sailed long ago. With others running my name into the ground because they can’t own up to their own shit.

So I speak on it. Not because I need to justify myself. But because I deserve to have my own voice as much as anyone else. Especially about my own Life.

And I feel no shame. This is real Life. If you haven’t experienced it yet, may comfort always find you. I guess. I’m probably supposed to say that.

But either way, the odds aren’t in your favor, in my opinion, to escape eventually encountering the messier parts of humanity. If you live long enough. And have the courage to at least be honest with yourself.

The parts many try to pretend don’t exist. The parts whole industries, whole complexes are built on busying themselves with trying to wipe off everyone’s conscious: “Please go die over there, away from us. Thank you very much.”

Until YOU need the help one day. Then it’s everyone else’s problem. Right?

And for all the haters out there that haven’t dealt with their shit, the office told me that my diagnosis is major depression with PTSD. Officially. It’s on paper. From people with degrees and licenses. Since my voice isn’t enough for ya.

I got to where I ended up because everyone told me to shut up. Either directly. Or indirectly through mostly complete abandonment when I dared to speak on working through things. Y’all really push a bitch down bad instead of facing shit. With no regard. Walk away and even sleep at night. 

But I don’t subscribe to that. Never have. Never will. 

And when my strength of trying to deal with y’all finally ran out, I realized some really important things:

One: yeah, you are allowed to live in that space. And Jesus Loves you as much as God also Loves me. No reservations.

But that doesn’t mean I have to join you there. That doesn’t mean I have to camp out with you and live the life you insist on. 

Two: but even so, God isn’t frustrated with you. At all. Even if I get frustrated. God is never impatient with you. Even if I have been. God’s grace and mercy are never reduced in your regard. Even when my strength ran out repeatedly.

And these points are so important. Not trivial at all. Absolutely Holy ground I tread on, even with all my pain, if I have any inkling of communicating otherwise. I own that. Especially now.

Three: because of that, I owe meeting you wherever you are at if I interact with you. Just like God does. All day every day.

God isn’t in a rush. With your healing. So just because I want to see you at the finish line. Or at least with more relief. More ability to celebrate the freedom of Truth. Never justifies any means. Carte blanche. Unfortunately for my unceasing pain and all the related feelings: no matter what.

God is my Source – not you. Especially now as an adult.

When you know better, you’re responsible for doing better. Especially if you want to be so foolish as to share your experience with people while claiming even experiential authority.

I desire no power over another. Just seek to encourage. But even then you are held to your words. Especially if Jesus’ name is included.

For all. Even my healing. Which I embrace.

But intentions don’t excuse much.

Not many are encouraged to teach. You sign up for that refiner’s embrace, that fiery wrath that refuses for you to settle for anything other than God’s best in every aspect of even all you hold dearest. Go ahead, join me if you dare. Leave the comfort of your ignorance – FAR, FAR behind. But hell don’t hold no candle to this Texas summer heat. You’ll feel alive alright. You’ll feel plenty warmth with the heat from all the falsehoods burning completely to the ground. Your idols be damned. Takes a lot. From you. And also in you. 

Yeah, I’m glad I’m here. On my better days. But when I feel weakest, I’m not sure the knowledge I’ve earned is so much better than just keeping things simple – even if it was just ignorance.

Look, it’s just Love. At the end of the day. Simple enough for children of all ages to understand. Whether in the nursery or the nursing home.

That preaches.

More than any of all our words – calling myself out before anyone else.

So, finally for now, four: I am showing up here again. But more importantly I am seeking out people in real life. People who understand. And I feel no shame about that. No matter how weak you might see it. And I’m going to talk about it. No matter if you feel uncomfortable because it’s not something you see yourself doing. At least yet. That’s none of my business. Even if you try to put it on me. My business is with God. Same as yours. I am no longer taking on the rest of the world.

But we need each other. People need other people. We weren’t built to try to shoulder everything on our own. That’s not the only kind of strength out there. Especially that’s valuable.

I messed up by thinking intellectual intelligence equated to thinking this healing business is simply an intellectual exercise. Nothing could probably be further from the truth. Sometimes intellectual intelligence may be the most stubborn “strength” that’s able to resist real healing the most.

Sometimes the only thing that will chip away at that specific most-protective stance is the absolute loss of everything else. That’s what happened to me. I never would have allowed myself that vulnerability otherwise. Until it was all I had left. Literally. 

Don’t recommend taking that long. But some of us that’s all we have. So I understand. As you sit staunch, so entrenched behind your bulwarks. Probably most of which chose you so long ago you don’t even remember ever settling into them as your home.

Those long days and lonely nights. I tried to rip you from them too quickly. Like I knew better than God. Like there was some rush. In my limited thinking. Please forgive me. I really am sorry. And trying to do better as I know now even if it’s too late. Even if everything looks over. Just because God is very much still in the Life and Living business. My only hope. For myself as much as anyone else.

I got to the point where I resented everyone who couldn’t or wouldn’t understand. I incorrectly thought over and over it was just a matter of me not explaining myself well enough. Which pushed everyone away. The exact opposite outcome I thought I was aiming for. 

Just because certain realities were pushed onto me without my consent, doesn’t mean I’m justified in using the same means on anyone else in my well-meaning but failed attempts to get them to understand that.

And yeah, keep trying if you want to. But I have decided to do different if I want any chance at happiness. It seems. Give them the grace God does. Whether it seems fair or not. Whether it feels like death when you have to accept where people are even though you’ve never asked for anything other than what is completely reasonable to expect. If the world worked that way. I get it. But it’s still whatever it is. Unless you want to direct all of what’s left of your best energies on that for how much longer? How many more times do they have to reject you? 

Before you finally just have to admit that even if you deserve understanding, you gotta find where it actually exists. Not where you just wish it did.

That’s me now. Isolating isn’t the long-term answer. Community is what we’re craving.

Not without qualifications though. You were right to keep a lot of this stuff to yourself. Not because of shame. But because your experience deserves the utmost honor and respect.

You are no weeping willow. No shrinking violet. Exactly the opposite. You are a warrior. True and through. Years. Decades most likely. 

And your words deserve to be heard by people who understand. As much as you love others, that doesn’t mean they are equipped to love you the way you need. That’s so difficult. Such a paradox. But once you give people the freedom to show up as they’re able… To not require them to be everything… To ask God to show you the strengths they are in their own rights… To not get so attached to validating our painful experiences by comparing pains and how people are able to show up or not…

You wouldn’t take your physical brain to be repaired by even the best car mechanic. That’s what we’re dealing with here. Emotionally. Mentally. Spiritually. Relationally. 

I was cutting everyone out of my life that was unable to do brain surgery. Or heart surgery. Or soul surgery. I was asking even the worst car mechanics to show up for me as neurosurgeons. Every day. All the time. And then getting mad when they wouldn’t. Even though they couldn’t.

I lost all hope because I was looking for it in the wrong places. In the wrong people. Even as they probably wanted at least at some point in the past before all my frustration with them to be able to do so. To offer me at least the encouragement they knew to give. 

I needed much more. I put that on people who weren’t able to give me the answers I deserved. I wasn’t wrong for needing what I needed. They weren’t wrong for not being able to give it. But I exasperated my pain by insisting they show up for me how I needed when they repeatedly communicated they either wouldn’t or couldn’t. 

When I walked into that psychiatrist’s office and he was able to really see me. Almost immediately. Without me having to kill myself with over-explaining. That’s when it finally clicked.

It wasn’t that people were the entire problem. They were also the solution. Just that I had to find the right ones. And quit exhausting everything in me with those whose journey in Life is taking them elsewhere – differently than me.

What I wouldn’t give to be able to help someone like me feel seen. That’s why I do this. Why I give back as I can. As I am able to now. In this way.

My joke is always: don’t invite me to a party, but be sure to call me in a crisis. 

And I say that with humor but it’s painfully true. I’ve been wired a certain way. And when I am operating in my strengths, what is unbearable for others is probably to them oddly invigorating to me. Not that I seek out distress at all. But to be able to reach out a hand to someone who is drowning makes meaning out of all I have lost. All I never was given. It doesn’t make it worth it, but it at least redeems what was taken. It at least moves the needle in a better direction. 

And all this time I knew that for others. But I wasn’t fully applying it to myself. Just because other people maybe should or even could, doesn’t mean they can or will. That’s just the way it is. Even if otherwise would be better.

So in this new season I am letting God do the work. In others. And even myself. As it probably is and should be anyway. 

And I am trying to navigate how to meet people where they are at. Regardless. Asking for eyes to see them as God sees. Even if they can’t or won’t show up for me.

While also making a new concerted effort to find out those people who do understand me. Who don’t see the hard things as ugly. Who need to hear me as much as I need to hear them. Who simply get it without even many words. But who because they can relate also don’t get tired of listening. 

I think that’s the only way forward. And it’s not like people wear what they’ve been through on signs hanging from their necks. So this is going to be more messy than not.

But we are one body. So the efforts are worth it. The best way I can love even those who hurt me the most is to take care of myself. To step into the most healed and happy iterations of myself. Every day. Over and over. 

Is it easy?
But is it worth it?
Am I worth it?
Are you?
Is humanity?

If there is any hope.

That’s where I am now. Not bipolar. Officially.

Everything just got a lot heavy for awhile. The well-meaning but empty answers no longer sufficed. I lost the plot. And it almost killed me. 

But God wasn’t finished with me. Or you. 

I finally found a new framework to go forward. In truth. And with purpose. That isn’t bullshit.

So much more to say. But that’s probably more than enough for now. 

Application is where it matters most anyway. So, I go forward in facing another day. On Life’s terms. And with real hope for tomorrow. Focusing on what’s possible. Not just the reality of how bad it can get. 

That Love wins in the end. And it’s not yet the end. So, put me in, Coach. 

Never give up.