I was held captive as a prisoner inside my own mind.
Seemingly being punished and incarcerated within the confides within myself, serving a life sentence, a death sentence, kept in isolation inside the cell walls inside my brain.
My invisible bars were locked solid, the key thrown away, holding me a prisoner inside the prison walls surrounding and encircling my entire being, keeping me completely enclosed within, unable to break free from me.
Trapped inside, unable to release myself or be freed from the punishment that bipolar created inside of me, incarcerated in the confides of my home nestled safely and securely, but dangerously inside my brain.
Incarcerated in my bipolar prison, severely punished for a crime I did not commit. I am innocent of any crime and yet I was being punished it seemed to serve a life sentence and possibly a death sentence to bipolar, my own bipolar disorder that I never chose.
I was an innocent victim in the wrong brain at the wrong time with an illness that robs lives, steals homes, friendships, relationships and identities, burns bridges, fires you from employment and a life you planned, began and dreamed of.
Bipolar is the criminal committing these crimes, these felonies of life. I became a victim of my own life incarcerated and imprisoned behind the locked bars in my own prison of darkness and death within me.
Finally, many years later I have been reprieved from my death sentence.
Released, discharged, freed, vindicated and cleansed from the punishment I thought I deserved. I punished myself for years before I finally was able to forgive myself for some of my choices and behaviors related to my bipolar disorder.
I accept I have bipolar disorder and make my bipolar fit into my life.
Bipolar is in me, but it is not me.
I choose to live and make the life sentence of bipolar disorder into my own destiny, choosing how I am going to live out my life sentence of living.
I write each word, sentence and chapter after chapter of my great novel of living, thriving and surviving with bipolar disorder.
The words and sentences and pages and chapters of the story behind the memoir of my own life. My memoir is not complete yet. I will continue creating and writing my memoir until it becomes a continuous beautiful and inspiring novel of a life worth living and loving.
There is hope to make the sentences of your life turn into a beautiful novel of life.
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(Image from Deviant Art)