Day 10: Share the Diagnosis
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Before my bipolar diagnosis, I struggled to express to my friends and family how I felt.
I knew I felt weird and did weird things, but I didn’t know why.Once I was diagnosed, it gave me a framework of understanding so I could better communicate with my family and friends.
It transformed the situation from “Dad dealing with his issues” to “our family dealing with this together.”If you have a mental health diagnosis and you’re hesitant to share it, I get it. It can be hard and confronting.
Mental illness affects the person and those around them. And I know not everybody’s at the place to ask for help or bring someone in on the journey.But if you can get yourself to that place, eventually your best supporters could be right under your nose — waiting to give you the help you need.
Let’s Talk
Before my diagnosis, I had a lot of confusing days. I didn’t have language for what was going on — so I couldn’t invite anyone into it. I knew something was wrong, I just didnt know exactly what that was. When people did try to help, they often made it worse. “Cheer up.” “Get some sleep.” “Have you tried smoothies, vitamins, massage, squats, exercise, supplements, wheatgrass, turmeric or any other disgusting tasting concuctions?”
But the moment I had a diagnosis, something changed.
Not because the struggle disappeared — but because the confusion started to lift.
Suddenly, there was language for what I was feeling.
There were tools, patterns, frameworks and people who could walk with me instead of watching from a distance.
Diagnosis doesn’t define you.
But it can give you a door to open — a way to bring others in.
And the people who love you the most might not understand everything… but they’re probably more willing to learn than you think.
Mental health isn’t just a me thing. It’s an us thing.
You don’t have to carry it solo.
You’re not a burden. You’re a human being in need of support. That’s not weakness — it’s wisdom.
Scripture
“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfil the law of Christ.”
— Galatians 6:2 (NIV)
This verse isn’t just a feel-good encouragement — it’s a directive that sits at the heart of Christian community. Paul is reminding the Galatian church that faith isn’t just about personal righteousness or theological correctness — it’s about practical love expressed in shared weight.
F.F. Bruce, in his commentary on Galatians, writes:
“To ‘bear one another’s burdens’ is to share in the weight of real life — including weakness, failure, and suffering — in a way that reflects the very heart of Christ.”
Mental health challenges are one of the clearest places this verse becomes flesh. When you’re diagnosed — or even just hurting without clarity — letting someone in can feel risky. But it’s how the body of Christ is meant to function: not as a group of individuals managing alone, but as a community carrying each other.
This is the gospel in action. Not just preached — but lived, shoulder to shoulder.
Mental Health Moment
There’s a strange power in naming what’s going on.
A diagnosis isn’t the end of your story — but it can be a map when you’re lost. When I first read about the symptoms and behavioural patters of my mental health disorder, I felt like I was reading my own diary. It helped frame things I couldn’t articulate, and most of all, it made me feel understood.
When you name your struggle, you create space for understanding, empathy, and partnership.
You give people a chance to actually love you — not just the version of you they imagine.
And if you’re on the other side — someone who’s been invited into another person’s diagnosis —
you don’t need to fix them. You just need to stay.
Practice for Today
If you’ve been diagnosed with something and haven’t shared it with someone close to you yet, take one small step:
Write it down.
Practise saying it aloud.
Imagine how it might feel to let someone in.
You don’t have to open the whole door. Just nudge it a little bit.
And if someone has trusted you with their diagnosis, shoot them a message:
“I’m still here. You’re not alone.”
A Prayer for the Brave and the Burdened
God,
You know how heavy this can feel — the shame, the confusion, the loneliness.
Give me the courage to speak the truth about what I’m facing.
Help me trust the people You’ve placed in my life.
And for those who love someone struggling, help them love without fixing, support without judging, and stay without fear.
Amen.
Reflection Prompt
Who are the people in your life who would support you — if they only knew what you were carrying?
What’s one barrier that’s kept you from opening up?
What would it look like to take one small step toward letting them in?
