Not long ago my kids walked into a house they want me to rent.
They all loved it. You could see it on their faces. They were already working out whose room was whose, where things would go, what we'd do there.
I stood there watching them, and it was just another small reason to keep pushing.
I've told a lot of hard stories in this series. A holding cell. A forensic ward. Twelve boxes on a veranda. Coming off my meds and going higher and faster than my psychiatrist had ever seen. Three marriages that didn't survive.
People sometimes ask me, after all of that, what keeps me going.
The honest answer is my kids.
This illness is merciless. It doesn't matter how much you love God, how much you serve the community, how good your intentions are or how much insight you have. It can take everything. There have been times in the last couple of years when I've worried it would take me.
But I've got three children who get to have a father who's at home with them. And I've given myself to being a dad at home for four more who came into my life through their mum. I'm not going to let my own kids lose me. There's no way.
So I keep building. I keep working on my retainer clients. I keep doing the hard week, over and over again. Shifts, driving, building, writing, showing up. Some weeks it's a lot. But my kids need me to succeed.
And when I say succeed, I don't just mean pay the rent.
My kids have seen me at my worst. They've seen me unwell. They've had to learn what to do if Dad isn't okay. That's not something I'd wish on any child, and it's not something I can undo.
But they're also watching what happens next. They're watching me take my meds and protect my sleep. They're watching me talk about my feelings instead of hiding them. They're watching me build things and keep my faith and get back up.
I think that matters more than almost anything I could tell them.
Because one day, one of them might face something hard of their own. Maybe not bipolar. Maybe something else. And I want them to have a picture in their heads of their dad, who got knocked down more times than he could count, and kept standing.
That's what this whole series has been about, really. And it's what the book is about too. God's faithfulness in my insanity. Not a neat story with everything fixed. Just a man who keeps finding that God is there, in the holding cell, in the hospital, in the people who turn up, and in three kids running through a house they already love.
My kids don't just need me to succeed for survival.
They need to see that it can be done.
If you're struggling right now, call Lifeline on 13 11 14. In an emergency call 000.
