The same God who designed the sun's predictable arc across the seasons also designed me—a creature who needs light to thrive. He built the solution into creation itself: the promise that darkness never gets the final word. Even at its peak on the Winter Solstice, the night immediately begins to lose ground. The light always returns.
Bipolar Disorder
Between the Rocks: Finding Sanctuary in the Waiting
Sanctuary isn't the absence of uncertainty. It's not found in answered prayers staying answered or circumstances finally settling into place. Sanctuary is the practice of returning to God in the midst of unknowns—the daily choice to sit between the rocks and seek the Rock.
Setting Your Watch by the Sun
My new psychiatrist asked how I get my needs met when I'm busy meeting everyone else's. The answer: At sunrise, every day. I meet God there. For a year now, I've approached dawn like an altar. I can't set my watch by people anymore – their consistency wavers. But the sun rises because God commands it. Every morning, without fail, He proves His faithfulness.
Free to Fall and Fail Again: Finding Your Song in the Chaos
Everything around me changes with the seasons—the sunrise comes later, the routines shift, the household dynamics evolve. But I show up every morning at the water's edge, and the God who orders all of this—the sunrises and the sea glass walks, the students in room 202, and the beautiful chaos of family life—remains constant.
The Mania September Demands: When Routine Becomes Your Lifeline
My brain woke me at 3am with a mental inventory of everything I needed before students arrived. This is September's paradox for educators with mood disorders: the start of school requires hypomania while you're trying to maintain stability. When my carefully constructed accommodations fell apart, I remembered where my real anchor lies.
The Last Day of Summer: Preparing to Teach with Mental Illness in the Open
Today was the last day of summer, and it didn't sneak up on me. Despite a packed day ahead, I positioned myself at Fort Monroe to welcome the dawn of my last official day of summer vacation. As I prepare to return to teaching, I'm carrying a different kind of fear: Since I've come out publicly about my mental illness, will there be pushback? I readily own my ADHD because I can model accommodations for my students. But will I ever feel safe admitting I have bipolar disorder? Sometimes the very things we're most afraid to reveal become the bridges that help others feel less alone.
Always Someone to Care For: How Purpose Prevents Depression
I'm sitting at Fort Monroe Beach, having just captured a dolphin leaping from the Chesapeake Bay, when the most profound realization hit me. For the first time in almost two years, I'm alone—and I'm discovering that having Tony and Calista in my life is probably one of the biggest reasons I don't sink into depression anymore. It's not their emotional support, though that matters. It's simpler: I never stop doing things. There's always purpose driving my days forward. This revelation, witnessed by dolphins, led me to see how limitations become tools for freedom—in Jack's wheelchair, in my bipolar brain, and in the deep waters that aren't barriers but home.
The Ripple Effect of Coming Out: When Vulnerability Becomes a Lighthouse
Two raw, relatable statements arrived in my text messages this weekend that slowed me to a halt: 'I need to be reminded that my grief is valid' and 'I need to know that I can have a future beyond this season.' What I thought would make me a spectacle—being open about my bipolar disorder—was actually making me a resource. This week showed me the unexpected ripple effect of choosing vulnerability over hiding, and how our greatest fears can become our most powerful gifts.
Taming a Temper in Therapy and Accepting My Bipolar Diagnosis
After decades of trying to control my temper through prayer alone, therapy finally gave me the tools to manage bipolar rage. Here's how mental health treatment changed everything.
Writer's Growth 