And The Eyes Have It


 And the eyes have it 

  The evidence has been presented and the judge has heard the testimony. The case was laid out with such precision that it was easy to come to their conclusion. After all, there were multiple witnesses. The stories were told, the confessions made. The medical proof was there. No matter how much the client tried to defend herself or explain away the behaviours, she knew it was futile. They say facts don’t lie or the proof is in the pudding. The damage has been done.

The victims had collaborated their stories and given almost exact accounts of what they have experienced. Their combined accounts from years of observing the irrational actions and words of the defendant were insurmountable. This alone was damaging in itself and more than enough to bring down a damning verdict. The wounds were healing but the scars remained permanent. Deeds done cannot be erased. Pasts mistakes cannot be undone. Every account given was more incriminating than the one prior.

The facial expressions of each witness spoke louder than any verbal attempt at speaking their thoughts. The accusation shone in their eyes. An occasional glance at the defendant just solidified their pity on her. They all thought that avoidance would be the key. Their lives would continue on and the white elephant would hide, not to be seen and not be a nuisance. But there it was, always present. Soon every offended and affected person was in the crosshairs of the unpredictable onslaught of her disease, the white elephant. The disease that has brought her to the cruel place of total judgement and laughing eyes.

Yes, the foundation has been laid and the framework has been put up.  It is what it is. She is what she is, or is she only perceived to be who others say she is. Is a disease worth a life sentence? Sometimes. But why, at the hands of others, is the judgement passed down?

The murmurings and jeering behind the closed door as the jury deliberates is more than the defendant can handle. The audible gratification done in secret is not as hidden as they would like to be. She is neither blind nor deaf.

The jury is in and the votes are unanimous. The destiny of her life, as determined by a jury of her peers, is presented in ink on a small piece of paper, every signature accounted for, and presented to the judge. As she slowly rises in respect for the judge, she is asked one last question, “Is there anything you’d like to say before judgment is passed down?”. Her final attempt for justification of a life lived as one already condemned. A reflection on all that has been presented. With a quivering voice, she speaks in hope that she will, at last, be heard. She looks upon the faces of her accusers and begins to focus on their eyes.

” I am not who I say I am. I have what they say I have. Mental illness. I see it in your eyes. Your judgement of me. The laughter and snickering when I falter. Your knowledge of my disease has made me feel more judged then when there was no insight into my behaviours. Now I have a diagnosis, a label, and a stigma. In your eyes I just have excuses. Your view is so distorted. You have lost sight of who I truly am and can’t see who I aspire to be. You look at me with shades of many colors just to avoid the annoying and unbecoming vision before you. I am black and I am white. Useless in your world of only desired kaleidoscopes. You, my accusers, stand ready in judgement and ridicule of a mental illness that I did not choose. I can no longer see your hearts through your mocking eyes. I stand before you, broken and weary. So misunderstood yet unable to explain. I have no defence for my illness. Neither do I need one. I am not alone. Millions stand with me. We are judged as one. So what do I have to say to the one who chooses to judge me?” As her eyes mist over yet her heart refuses to cry, her last words of hope are uttered.

” If I cannot have your support or acceptance can I at least have the respect of one in battle?  Walk a day in my shoes, an hour in my head, a minute in my guilt, then show mercy. Stop the stigma.”

A Bipolar Warrior

#bipolarawareness #stopthestigma

Matt 6:22 ” The eye is the lamp to the body…”

Psalms 139:14 “I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”  there is hope.