My mother-in-law made me this fantastic coat. It’s full of colors and patterns and it’s quite unique and very thoughtful. It’s a one-of-a-kind creation just for me. It’s awesome.

 

The biblical Joseph got a special coat from his father. Much like mine, it was made especially for him. It was a reminder that God had a special future for him. The coat spoke of his potential before he stepped into it. His brothers ripped his jacket from him, and did their best to strip him of all he was to become, but they couldn’t stop God from fulfilling all that He had promised and planned. They tried to destroy Joseph’s inheritance but actually helped fulfill it. God used the brothers’ efforts to destroy Joseph in order to bring him into the fullness of everything He meant for him to become. It took time but eventually Joseph became all the things his coat promised he would be.

 

I don’t know if my mother-in-law realizes it, but the coat she made me speaks. It speaks of what I am to be: a unique, awesome, one-of-a-kind creation. When I wear it God whispers to me. He says, “I have special plans for you. Just be who you are. Walk with Me in confidence. You will step into all I’ve promised you.”

 

I don’t feel comfortable in my coat yet. It needs to be broken in. The wearings and washings will make it soft and pliable. Attempts have already been made to strip it from me before I’m comfortable in it. I’ve been teased for wearing it. The coat felt awkward and wrong on me as I was teased. I kept on wearing it, though. I knew that one day I’d put it on and it would feel just right. No one will have a chance of teasing it off of me when that day comes. I’ll understand all the things my coat calls me to be, and I’ll see that I am stepping into its promises. No one, and nothing, can stop that day from arriving. God will be sure of that.        

 

I have a dream about my Joseph coat. In the dream some words are spoken to me: to be shut forever. The words are encouraging words. They make me feel like there might actually be a way to shut the door on the bad things in my life. In my dream I see myself emerging from a dark, underground crypt that has stairs and a door leading to brilliant light on the outside. The walls of the tomb are thick, dank and heavy. When I open the door to the light the door moans and creaks. I have to push hard, and lean in with all my body weight, to find my way out to the light on the other side. When I step out from the darkness I notice that I’ve been wearing my colorful coat all along; it’s just been too dark for me to know it. My eyes squint in the light. They’ve been in the dark for so long it takes a while for them to adjust. I step out fully into the freedom of the open air around me. I raise my hands to God and celebrate my escape from below. I live in the light now. Angels soar around me singing, “To be shut forever. What has been is finished. Come dance in the light, Alisa. Your days of darkness have ended. Come celebrate. Come celebrate the light.” As I hear the angels’ words I notice that my coat of many colors, for the very first time, fits just right.

 

I know my dream is a promise. Against the reality of what seems to be stands the promise of my dream. One day I will step out of the place I now find myself and into a new place that is full of wonder and joy. I will step into the place that God meant for me all along.

 

I think about my dream on the way to the doctor’s office. He’s a new doctor so I pray that he will have a new piece that will help me. “What’s wrong?” I ask the new doctor. “Please tell me what’s really wrong with me.” He gives me the answer that most frightens me. He wants me to take bipolar meds and I’m terrified and confused. I say, “I’ve never had a manic episode. I’ve never been really depressed. How am I bipolar?” New Doctor says, “I believe this medicine will help you sleep.” I explain how my mom’s meds gave her a movement disorder. I tell New Doctor that I’m afraid I’ll end up like her. New Doctor says he doesn’t think that will happen to me. He’s kind, and sweet, and he gives a damn. I decide to accept his answer because it makes some sense. I figure that I might not be exactly like my mom but maybe I’m sorta like her. I’m so far at the end of my rope that on the way to the pharmacy I plead with God. I beg Him to let the bipolar meds work. After years of rejecting anything resembling a bipolar diagnosis, I find myself embracing it. An outcome that once seemed like the end now promises the hope of a new beginning.

 

I’m afraid of the medication. The possibility it could cause an irreversible movement disorder, or ignite a manic episode, does exist. God asks me if I trust Him. I tell Him that I’m done bargaining with Him. I tell Him that I no longer expect Him to be my magic genie who will make my life on earth like life in Heaven. My prayer is simple. “Lord, if I go crazy please don’t leave me. If my body tremors until the day I die please be with me. I accept whatever is necessary for Your will to be done in my life. I accept whatever is needed for Your will to be done through me for others. Your will, Lord, not mine be done.” I pray that His will, while strange, hard and sometimes very difficult to understand, will be enough for me.

 

I surrender. Inside myself I say, “God could need me in the loony bin. If He sends me there I will go. Maybe I’ll get a movement disorder, but I understand something new. Some people with movement disorders are dying inside. They need someone just like them to reach out and understand. Maybe that someone needs to be me. Lord, give me courage to become who I need to be. I want my coat to fit just right.”

 

I walk around making friends with my deepest fears. It’s not as horrible as I thought it would be. Facing my demons opens dank, heavy doors that lead to the light. I start my new drug cocktail. It’s hard at first. My body needs to adjust. I hang on to the promise of my dream. I imagine myself climbing the stairs from the depths and into the freedom. As I advance, I become less like that white horse and more like my winged, black, dream stallion. I imagine that I’m going someplace new. It’s someplace I’ve never been before. When I get there I’ll be wearing my coat of many colors, and I’ll raise my hands towards Heaven to thank my God for His incredible faithfulness to me. 

 

I tell Jesus about my deepest fears, regrets, confusion, sadness, humiliation and frustration and I do my best to surrender it all. I don’t expect a “magic genie” answer. I just talk to Him because I know He’ll listen and answer me in His way. More and more, His way is becoming enough for me. I tell Him everything with just a quiet place, a black pen and my journal.

 

Dear sweet Jesus,

 

I surrender. I plan to do whatever New Doctor recommends. I’m willing to say, “I could be manic depressive.” I’m willing to say it, but I’m very afraid. This is my biggest fear and I have to face it. I’m gonna face it head-on. Protect me, please. Protect me from the things that are not Your will. I’ll take the pain, the loss and the humiliation. I’ll accept it all. Please just keep me where You want me to be. Please let me hear Your voice. Let the doctor hear Your voice. Give us Your solution. I’ll accept a “broken world” solution if I have the assurance that You’ll keep me safely in Your will. Please put me in the shadow of Your wings. (The truth will set you free, Alisa. How about a more humble, broken, honest, fragile Alisa? How about an Alisa who understands the comfort of the promise of My love in a world that gives no promises?)  I’m so afraid. Afraid of what I’ve done to the kids. I’m afraid, especially, of what I’ve done to Emily. I’m afraid of the subtle ways I’ve given this “sickness” space to take root in her. I’ve tried to avoid passing this on, but I’m afraid I’ve failed at that. I’m afraid I’ll get worse. I’m scared of what will happen when I get worse. I’m afraid of what people will say about me. I’m afraid of the ways I’ll be discredited, spoken about behind my back and dismissed. I fear living a life marred by this “sick” thing that’s after me. I don’t get the Bible anymore. I don’t get You. Is there any hope for a better future for me? What about my kids? How is what’s happening to me any different than what happened to my mom? (You believe in Me. That’s what is different. No matter what happens you are never alone. I am your joy and your hope. I will surround you with people who will embrace you and respect you in your brokenness. They won’t want you perfect. They’ll like you just as you are. They’ll love you just like I do.) I’m sad today. (I know, but that will change. Tomorrow is a new day. It’s a day of hope. You will be filled with a new hope for the future. It will be a hope centered in Me, not in what is going to happen. That’s where your peace will be found: in Me. You will begin to gain the peace that only I can give.) Really? (Really.)

 

My hope still remains in You,

Alisa

 

I’m surrendering. That’s why I’m accepting my greatest fears. It’s how I’m discovering that those fears don’t define me. I meet with New Doctor again. I tell him the bipolar meds are working. We discuss my official diagnosis. It’s not what I thought it was. I’ve been diagnosed with the same diagnosis I started out with two decades ago: anxiety. Nothing has changed. Even my label is still the same.

 

I take meds that help people who are bipolar. They help me. My new meds help me sleep so now I’m well. I redefine myself. My name is Alisa Clark and I’m not going to the loony bin. My name is Alisa Clark and I’m not going crazy. My name is Alisa Clark and I won’t have a movement disorder. My name is Alisa Clark and there is an answer that will make me well. It’s the best end result that I could have hoped for. I don’t care about what meds I take or what my label is. I don’t care what people think about me. What I do care about is being well and I am well. There’s nothing for me to be afraid of anymore.

 

For a while, I thought that what I had feared all my life had come to be. I thought “it” had got me. After a lifetime of running from “it,” the Bipolar Beast had gotten me. That’s what I thought, anyway. Believing “it” had gotten me ended up being a good thing. Facing the Bipolar Beast dismantled the power it had over me. I walked around for a few weeks as the person I always feared I would become: a person with bipolar disorder. I did OK as a bipolar person. My life didn’t end. Ironically, it began. The Beast didn’t own me anymore.

 

I’ve got to pause and celebrate the miracle that has been realized in my life. I have waited so long to be well. I AM WELL! I can sleep. I no longer sleep on a mat on the floor. Today I sleep in a bed next to Craig. I wake up when the alarm goes off. My head doesn’t hurt anymore and I don’t feel like it’s stuffed with cotton. I still have my joy, my personality and my passions. A little up and down is still a part of me, but I can now make the most of it. I’m ready to do something really amazing with this new life I’ve been given. bipolar or not, I’m not afraid.

 

Jesus came on His white horse and took away my unbearable pain. It’s why I can now pray with enthusiasm instead of desperation. It’s like I’m a brand-new person with a brand-new list of desires. I can pray for things that I’ve never been able to dream of before. Today, when I pray, I feel like a kid at the candy store. I get to ask for whatever I want and wait patiently, instead of desperately, to get it. I ask Jesus to teach me how to love, and I expect Him to answer. It’s a new prayer that’s not desperate and pleading. It’s hopeful. Today, nothing seems impossible.

 

I just might do the impossible. The Spectrum is a gift that makes it easy for me to do things others might consider impossible. I’ll be honest. I believe I am in The Spectrum. I know that I’m a little nutty, but I like that. It’s true that I go up and down a little bit, but I have flavor. I like these things about me. I’m in The Spectrum and it is an awesome place to be in. It allows me creativity, enthusiasm and a beautiful way of seeing the world. I like the way I can get really excited about things. I see beauty where other people miss it. I can easily feel what other people feel, I have a great love for people and I am a person who is really passionate. I am all of these things because they are the blessings of The Spectrum and the blessings of being who I am. I’m not scared of The Spectrum anymore. I’m not afraid to be me. Today I embrace it all.

 

Not everyone is comfortable with who I am. They can’t embrace the new me. It’s best to not try and hope they’ll be able to see how I’m something new. It’s best just to let them be and love them as best as I can. I know that people are just afraid like I once was. I’m not willing to live afraid anymore. Instead, I’m going to live boldly. I’m not hiding what’s happened to me to protect my pride. I’m not shrinking back when people accuse me and feel threatened. I want to be a person who is willing to live life emotionally exposed. It hurts when I’m not loved well, but that’s not going to stop me from loving back. I’ll be trying to love even when it causes me pain. I don’t care if that leaves me vulnerable. I’m still going to try and give the grace I’ve so desperately needed.

 

Of all the people I have ever known, Craig has offered me the most grace. He doesn’t judge me. Craig encourages me and sees me as capable of more than I realize. He knows everything about me, all the mistakes I’ve made and the bad things that I’ve done. He still loves me. If I had a nervous breakdown he wouldn’t make me feel small. He’d hug me and tell me I was OK. Craig doesn’t ignite my deeper fears. Instead he soothes and heals them. When life pushes me down he helps me see that I can push back. He brings me tastes of how God loves me. I am always safe in his arms. That’s grace.

 

Jesus gave grace. Jesus never stopped loving the people who missed who He was and what He was all about. He protected those who murdered Him. He went so far as to make a way to Heaven for his executioners. He celebrated with people who were miles from perfect. He celebrated with tax collectors, law breakers, adulterous women and other evildoers like me. He sacrificed for people who couldn’t even sacrifice a night’s sleep before His crucifixion. He loved without expecting anything in return. He loved those who hated Him, gave Him nothing and gave Him very little.

 

I love who I am today. It’s the miracle of unconditional love for others that I’m now after. I don’t want to feel squashed and angered by the fingers that accuse and belittle me. Instead, I want to be secure in how Jesus sees me. I want to talk to Jesus and ask Him how I can learn to love others. I want to ask Him how I can better see how He loves me. I have a way to ask Him these things, so I ask:

 

Hello, Jesus,

 

How did you do it? How did you love all those people who mocked You and hurt You? (I didn’t place My trust in people. My trust was in My Father in Heaven.) How is it that You didn’t get wounded? (I felt all the pain you feel when someone hurts you. I loved them anyway. I didn’t expect people to be perfect. I didn’t expect that they wouldn’t hurt Me. I just loved them. Do you think you could learn to love like that?) I will have to trust that you will help me. It’s so hard for me to love the hurting people who hurt me. (If you want peace, Alisa, you will have to empty yourself of the need to have others be what you trust in. You will also have to accept the emptiness that comes with knowing that I am the only thing you can trust. Do you think it was easy to love on that cross?) No way. (It won’t be easy for you to love those who persecute you either.) Love like that seems so impossible. (You must work to relinquish your pride and place your trust in Me. As you open yourself to Me in spite of the pain, sin and unfairness of this world you will learn to “let go.” People, like you, are clinging to the hope that the world has something to offer their deepest needs. I am their deepest need. Do you see that I am your deepest need, Alisa?) Right now I do, but I forget and get caught up in trying to get my needs met elsewhere. Maybe, deep down inside, I just don’t want You enough? (Your desire for relationship with Me is insatiable. That’s why your deepest needs won’t get met in the world, Alisa: not in your family, in your kids, or even in your own husband. When you stop expecting your needs to be met on this earth, you will love freely. Meanwhile, you and I will dance this bittersweet dance: you choosing to move away from Me empty, and Me drawing you back full. There is pain in the dance. It’s the pain of knowing you can’t have your deepest needs fully met on this earth mixed with the sweetness of My love for you. Are you willing to dance with Me, Alisa?) I deeply desire to. (I will dance with you. You will dance with your Father who loves you perfectly. I will let you move away and feel the emptiness apart from Me until the force of your desire drives you back to Me.) I’m afraid of how much it will hurt when people don’t love me back. (You can’t find an answer to your emptiness in this world. You must bring your fear and emptiness to My feet. Then I can bring you peace and make you full. I will also use you to help others find fullness. I will help you as you journey and I will bring you closer and closer to the day when you will love perfectly and your peace will be complete. All of it will be done in Me.) I look forward to that day. (I do, as well.)  

 

Secure in Your love,

Alisa

 

There’s so much to live for. I have blessings and I have a chance at enjoying them. I sleep at night with the rest of the world. I feel fantastic. I’m not just a person who feels good, though. I’m a person who’s got a shot at cashing in her anger and bitterness for some love. I’ve got a shot at loving more every day. I’ll do my best to give back something different than what others have given me. I’m going to do my best to give them something good like love, grace or patience. I believe Jesus is going to help me give others these good things. He told me He would and I trust Him.  

 

I trust Him. Today, that’s the story I have to share. It’s not a story of miraculous healing, a perfect ending or a quick-fix solution. It’s the story of an up and down life walked alongside a God who can be trusted. Some people aren’t ready to hear my story. They aren’t ready to face the realities of living in this broken world because they haven’t been broken yet. I’ve been broken. That’s why I have a broken story to share. The people who are ready to hear my story often listen and respond. They give me the comfort of the realities of their own broken life and how it has also been touched by God. Sharing like this is one of the greatest encouragements this life has to offer. With God, every broken life is a powerful story to be shared.