I have my own business - a place I love to work. I have a best friend and plenty of people who care about me. I have food, clothing, a place to sleep, and the freedom to worship God.

And yet...

I'm not even sure if I want to write this post. My mom wrote a group text to the family asking us to do family history, and at the same time I was reminded of the dozens of things on my to-do list... and the billions of people in the world (and thousands within my reach) who could use a friend.

And despite everything, I miss my depression.

Yes.

I miss depression.

If you've followed my blog for long enough, you know that I was diagnosed with rapid-cycle bipolar a few years ago (at the same time I was diagnosed with autistic spectrum disorder). I went on medication for a little while, then miraculously found an extreme diet that ultimately cured me of bipolar mood swings. I've been off the diet for months and life is normal.

And I am awful at normal.

I could go into the newfound issues I have in keeping commitments without a hypomanic phase to lean on, or my complete inability to remember one day from another without the powerful emotional moments to which I had grown accustomed... but right now I just miss my depression.

The logical side of my brain is rebelling. Depression is an awful thing. It made me want to die. It killed my relationships. It smashed my hopes and dreams. It haunted my commitments and burned bridges I had never crossed. Depression would pull me away from relationships I care about and things I never could have done in the past.

And yet... that same depression made me into the guy I am today. It made me aware of the pain that people feel who are depressed. It put me in touch with the world. And it ground me low enough that I was able to open my heart to God.

Right now, though, I guess I'm wishing for depression because I want an excuse for not being good enough in my calling and in life. Or maybe not an excuse - while depression often kept me from doing some things, it actually motivated me to do others. And when I came out of depression, my focus was crystal-clear on what I wanted to accomplish.

Maybe that's what I'm missing. Focus. Focus was always the first thing in helping me figure out my direction in life, and focusing always happened during the depressed moments of my life. It came so easily then. And now it doesn't.

I want to be a better friend. To be healthier. To be a better missionary. A better brother and employer and son.

I didn't ever expect normal life (well, at least my life without bipolar) to be this hard.