Keeping the Faith
The hole in my chest is still there, but it's getting smaller. I still miss my father desperately---regardless of my anger at him lying to me.
The antidepressants haven't taken away the pain. It's still there, just a little dulled. I spent a good portion of yesterday looking at pictures of him, looking at his boots and the urn with his ashes in it.
Thanksgiving is coming. We were going to make our own turkey and it reminded me that I would normally have called my father for help. Help he can no longer give. It made me cry out in pain inside. It kills me that I just can't pick up the phone and call him. I miss his voice.
My faith is shaking that this will ever pass. I keep on going everyday. I get knocked down, but at least I get back up. I know I have to be strong and keep pushing on. I have to have faith that this will all get better. I just have to.
About the Author: Cristina C. Fender, 34, is rapidly becoming an expert on Bipolar Disorder. She has been researching Bipolar Disorder and blogging about her own experiences for several years. At age 21 she was diagnosed with depression and saw psychiatrists for over ten years before she was correctly diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder I. Her vision for writing at Raw Writing for the Real World of Bipolar is to inform and educate the public about mental illness. Feel free to Email Cristina a comment or a question.Share Your Own Bipolar Story. Click here to Subscribe in a Reader.
© 2009 Cristina C. Fender
