Seeking Silver Linings

Last Sunday night I felt like cutting.  It’s not something I’ve ever done before. But I had this strong sensation. Like an itch that needs to be scratched, my wrists needed to be slit. A cloud was settling in after a year and a half of stability and sunshine. I reached out to my amazing husband and also to my dad, an amazing therapist, and they helped me find the strength and coping strategies to resist the urge. Monday was okay, Tuesday was fine, and then Wednesday morning I awoke to the darkness of that cloud.  It was so deep and so dark, appearing unexpectedly.  I felt like the world would be better without me.

My husband stayed home all day caring for me and our daughter while I did everything I could to fight for my life.  Tears streamed down my face as I ran on the treadmill, attempting to find a physical release. I listened to music both invigorating and soothing to no avail.  I showered, did some work, called my dad, and used my sun lamp, trying so hard to simply have a normal day—but the deep dark cloud hovered, threatening to swallow me up.

When I called my dad he put positive thoughts into my head, speaking in first person, hoping something would stick. He distracted me by telling me all about a book he was reading. He tried to help me find simple things to look forward to—like my sweet little girl’s soccer game that night.

It had been a stormy day, both literally and figuratively, and I wondered if the game would even go on.  But the sun peeked around the clouds outside creating silver linings, and I went to cheer on my darling Purple Unicorn in her red jersey, wishing I could see the silver linings around my billowing darkness.

I’ve come to realize that sometimes when you can’t control something, all you can do is seek the silver linings. And when you can’t see them—you seek the Source of the light.

And so I prayed.

                                                  ~*~

The next day I saw my psychiatrist, desperate for answers and reasons.  She said it could have been one or more of many things including the smoke that had lingered in the air for so long, a lack of sleep, or just the plain and simple fact that I have bipolar disorder. She adjusted my medication slightly, gave me a sleeping pill to ensure that I get my rest, and gave me orders to spend more time with my husband, have someone watch my daughter one day a week, spend more time with friends, create things to look forward to, see a therapist monthly, take up a hobby, have more fun, and update her in ten days.

I was so frustrated that there wasn’t one clear reason or trigger that I could do something about. I had worked so hard to be stable for the past year and a half, and it felt like it all just came crashing down for no reason.  And still being relatively new to this illness, it’s something I’m trying to get used to.

Now, as the cloud disperses, I find myself asking Why me?

This question is often seen as downhearted, but I’ve learned that it can be quite the contrary.

Let me explain.

We all have our unique challenges and struggles, and want them to be good for something—we’re all seeking silver linings. The question of why me? nudges us toward those silver linings by prompting other questions like:

·        How can I use this experience in my life?

·        How can I now empathize with others in a way I couldn’t before?

·        What do I need to learn that I can’t learn in any other way?

·        How can I use my struggle to improve the lives of others in ways that no one else can?

·        How is my struggle making me more like my Savior, who chose to learn by His own experience how to support and comfort me?

·        How am I becoming acquainted with God?

Why me? is a plea to discover the purpose of our pains. 

So I continue to ask it with a heart willing and ready to respond to that purpose as I seek the Source of all Light who can create silver linings from any situation.