Chapter One

My story is that one of a survivor. I’ve strived to achieve great things in the midst of barriers, boundaries, and blocks to attain those great things.

For the last decade I’ve been managing a mental illness known as Bipolar Type I.  A condition known in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders as a group of brain disorders that cause extreme fluctuation in a person’s mood, energy, and ability to function.

This condition unlocked so much euphoria and curiosity. Doing courageous acts and pushing myself beyond my own limits. 

I am Barnaby Alkire and this is my story. It begins with church. My mother and father were both active in church. They both sang in the choir and my father served on the board of trustees. We were sold out to church.

I remember going to church Sunday, Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. Almost every day of the week were serving the ministry and devoting our lives as acts of worship towards God. 

I loved church. I loved everything about it. It was an accepting and warm place. I was able to have many mentors and participated in many ministries. It was my life and I cherished the place I called home. Cornerstone Christian Center was my rock and as I grew older I became a serious devotee.

Expecting that God would use me in a big way. To be a sold out Christian that’s on fire for his glory. The community esteemed me as a leader and affirmed my calling that God was going to change a generation and save those who are lost. 

To give you an glimpse, this is what my mother was like in her religious vigor:

“Barnaby- Son of comfort, consolation, and encouragement 

* And Joses, who was also named Barnabas by the apostles (which is translated Son of Encouragement a Levite of the country of Cyprus. Acts 4:36

Barnaby, I name you after Barnabas of the Bible in the New Testament. Barnabas was known for bringing encouragement and comfort to others. Barnabas was the one who courageously embraced and encouraged the Apostle Paul when no else would after his encounter with Jesus

It was four years before I had another baby. You baby number six the last baby boy and last child I would have. During those four years before I had poi were difficult. One day while washing dish, God gave me a vision of me holding a new born baby, I name you Barnaby because I wanted a son to bring comfort. 

Barnaby, God planned your birth and made known to me that I was to have you. Because you symbolize the Holy Ghost, the comforter of God, Satan was trying to destroy you but Jesus had other plans for you. You have been born with a purpose on this earth and God will accomplish His purpose for your life.  The Lord Jesus is your Shepherd he will lead and guide you into His perfect will. 

I love you very much. You have not only been a comfort to me but others as well. Thank you for being a comfort to me through out the years.”

She wrote this after I was hospitalized for a month in 2008, for the second time, at an institution known as Silver Hill Hospital. I had so much energy and I was so angry that I was placed in an institution. I made a big splash in the hospital and I tried to do whatever to escape.

Of what I remembered, I was placed in a padded room and they took away my Bible that my mom gave me. They classified it as a sharp object because I was throwing it at people. I was all over the place that they placed me in four restraints and tied me to a bed. It was traumatic. I spent most days dazed by medication because I was so high energy. They blasted me with drugs to treat me. 

The first hospitalization was for two weeks and I missed my first week of my senior year.  I was full blown manic, hearing voices (or, as I call them believing false beliefs), and creating delusions that felt real. It was there I was diagnosed with condition known Bipolar. I was staying with my sister and her family at the time. Her husband is a successful chef and she is a splendid baker at well known restaurant in the upper California area. I stayed there for a month sleeping in the guest bed room.

I was eager to explore and work on the restaurant’s farm which was in their back yard. I was 17 when I was out there. Eager to figure out my future and loving life. I remember talking to God under the moonlit farm field. Talking to my Creator and basking in his creation. 

“Barnaby, no!”, my sister exclaimed! I slammed the laptop onto of the kitchen table. Splaying the keys off of the keyboard. Throwing out the wifi card. “They’re after us!” “They’re tracking us and know where were are.” “ Google, Facebook, they know our information!” I rambled on as I felt like Facebook was abusing it’s reach to it’s end-user. It was that and porn. Man, I had such a deep embedded habit with porn. I use to suppress my sexuality and go through a dark shame and guilt cycle.

That’s one of the reason why I destroyed the laptop. I didn’t want to be tangled and lured by the sirens of the internet. It was a temporary fix and it wasn’t productive with my sister screaming and shouting for me to calm down. I woke up that morning of my intake as a determined man of God. Not allowing the stain of the world to inflict itself on me. 

I felt there was a spiritual battle waging war for my soul and Satan was trying to take me out. I felt like I was controlled and being manipulated. It all started as I gave my life Christ when I was 16 after experiencing a earth defying spiritual experience. It was my first mission trip and we traveled to El Paso, Texas to hop the border to serve the community of Chihuahua, Mexico. We stayed there for a week and by the end of the trip I was sold out for Christ. Knowing my role in this world.

I felt the Holy Spirit broke open upon us in the Motel parking lot. We yelled and spoke in tongues. We sang song and hug each other in ecstasy. I knew then God had a calling for my life and I was going to be used by him in a big way. It was the beginning of my mood disorder. I came back from Mexico as a change man and determined to live a straight and narrow life. More than than I wanted to save the lost from Eternal damnation. I alone could do it. I cried my eyes out after coming back from Mexico.

I was 16 and I had an overflow of empathy for those I met on the Mexico trip. I gave $100 to Chino, a fellow teen, who lived in the slums of Mexico. I felt that would help him and his family. It was an earthquake of emotions the ruptured my soul. I wanted that high again. I had a mountain top experience and I crashed down to the valley of depression by the winter of 2007.

I no longer wanted to work at Target, which I loved, and I didn’t want to go to school. I managed, but it was tough. It was clear there was a mood shift from the summer to the winter. 

I chased the high again by signing up for another mission trip. We decided to go to  Del Mas, Haiti. I had a heart for the Haitian people. They were struck by poverty and I never could of imagine witnessing such a poverty inflicted on a people. I got my high. I made it a resolve to be a man of God and to be the best leader as I was called to be. 

I was familiar with Bi-polar because I studied it in AP Psych and I knew it would be a condition that I’d deal with if I was going to go in nursing or psychology. It was either nursing or psychology as a major in college. I picked nursing because it was a field to serve people. After seeing two nurses worked the field in Haiti. I knew in my heart I wanted to be a nurse. I wanted to be a missionary nurse to save people.

Then there was psychology, I love psychology because I loved learning how people think. Being at Cornerstone allowed me to be hyper charismatic and I had the ability to practice introducing myself to new people and explore conversation. It was a safe space and like I said I loved every second of it.

I can’t say it enough, but church was a huge part of my life. The reason why I had the opportunity to go on these trip was because I was apart of a program called Path Of Success Students for Excellence. Otherwise known as POSSE. People speculated because I was a great man of God that I was being attack by Satan with my mental condition.

Angel and demons harped their chorus in my ear. Sometimes I heard the voice of God and other times the lies of Lucifer. Playing his flute of deception as I navigated myself with my moods. 

It was chaos the year I was diagnosed Bipolar. My parents were constantly fighting and it came to a point where my Dad was disappearing for days throughout the week. He said he had work, but we knew it was much bigger than that. He was trying to keep the house on 108 Laurel Street in East Haven.

But, eventually lost it to foreclosure by January 2009. It was then my Dad decided to move out and separate from my Mom. My mom, brother, and I all had to move and we landed on Savin Ave in West Haven. My family was scared to tell me the news about my father divorcing my mother because they thought I’d commit suicide. In reality, I felt like I was the caused of the divorce. I felt like a burden, weighing my parents down with my medical expenses.

It wasn’t true, but I believed it. By the time, I was a zombie. The medicine took away my vibrant personality. I was trying to make it day by day. There were a lot of changes and I was looking for my next high. 

As I reflect, I was chasing the emotion and not Christ himself. While in my delusional state I thought I could be Christ. I was the son of God. The man who forgave sins and do miracles. I felt in my core. The way my congregation inflated my ego and my pastor and my mother. It was clear that I was something bigger than myself. I was Barnaby. Unique and precious. Here to save the lost from their wickedness. I had an identity crisis, if you had to ask me. I didn’t know who I was because of the condition. I felt deep shame because of my porn habit and because of my diagnosis. I mean how could I be a man of God if I looked at porn and be bipolar. I was broken, unrepairable, and felt that there was something wrong with me.

I brought this up a few times, but I was in love in porn. Porn gave me comfort from the constant fighting in my house by my parents. It gave me comfort from the bullies at school. It gave me a high like none other.

I didn’t chase the drugs, but stroke my lollipop gave me a sugar rush. I worship porn and it was my best kept secret. I hid from my mom and from my dad, who was in IT. They had no clue as I erased the internet browsing history. I glanced at porn every time moment I could get it. You see, my story with porn begins with my oldest brother, Sam, and the bathroom. I was five years old and he was sixteen.

One day, Sam decided to think it was smart to leave his porno mag underneath the towels in the closet next to the toilet. I, being curious, found the mag as I was sitting on the pot. I witnessed all kinds of positions and depravity in the magazine. My mom was wondering why I was taking so long and found myself enthralled in the magazine. She picked me up and hurried down stairs.

She opened our pot belly stove in the living room and burned the magazine in front of me. It was complete chaos for me because I didn’t know what I did wrong. She reprimanded me and she gave it my oldest brother. It was so bad that he ran away from home. My mom and dad were strict parents. I didn’t get the extent of their punishment, but I heard horror stories from my five other siblings about the belt, and the wooden paddle.

They definitely hold back from discipling their children. My dad was a force to be reckon with if you crossed him the wrong way. I heard him hollering at my mother and would throw things in anger. It was scary as a kid. So I knew to stay clear of Glenn Alkire. My mom verbally instilled fear into us by manipulating the Bible against us. She’d tell us to fear God. She wanted to be sure all of her kids were saved and made sure of it. 

I was a weak kid and the baby of the bunch of six. I cried often as a kid and I felt I was the problem. I felt like I wasn’t good enough for my parents, siblings, and friends. I had low-esteem and ever since the episode with porn mag. I had a roller coaster of guilt and shame that embedded itself since I was a kid. I was morose filled with melancholy. I started to become haunted by the idea of suicide. I remember if I was the problem, then I have a solution to take me out. It’d be better if I wasn’t here, I’d console myself. I was bullied at school, so what did it matter.

Reader, we’ll discuss this more in Chapter 2.