This is my life with mental illness.
To the world, I may appear as though I am simply moving through another day. They see my face. They hear my voice. They see me standing beneath the same sky they stand beneath.
But they do not see the storm that follows me.
They do not hear the thunder that echoes within my thoughts, nor do they know the strength it takes to rise each morning and face a battle that no eye can witness.
My mind, at times, becomes both the battlefield and the enemy. Thoughts creep like whispers in the darkness, and I wrestle with them long after the world has fallen asleep.
There are moments when I wonder if anyone truly knows the weight I carry.
Not because people do not care.
But because there are places in my soul where no human hand can reach.
There is only One who sees the whole of me.
My Saviour.
He sees the tears I wipe away before anyone notices. He hears the cries that never become words. He knows the battles I fight in silence, the ones hidden beneath a calm expression and a quiet heart.
He knows the storms that rage inside me…
And still, He chooses me.
Every single day.
He does not turn away from the broken pieces. He does not abandon me in the darkness. He does not love a false version of me that pretends the battle is not real.
He knows my story.
He knows my pain.
He knows every shadow that tries to consume me.
And still, He remains.
The world may never understand the war that lives within my mind.
They may never see the nights where I fight just to hold onto the person I am.
But my Saviour sees.
And in the deepest darkness, when the whispers grow loudest, I hold onto this truth:
The One who created my heart is the One who walks with me through the storm.
And He chooses me.
Still.
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