At the edge

It's been a little over two weeks since I came down off my unwanted high, a medically induced manic episode.  The first week I felt as though fire of destruction wouldn't come out through my lips as I took in the needed oxygen.  A relief to breathe as the rest of the world does.  Then came week two I began to feel it, the sand slipping under my feet as I stood on the edge of the misty grayness that begged for me to fall in.  That's when the counting down began.  Assigning myself the task of getting throughout the day like a normal person and then it became the task of just getting through the next event, and finally I would count myself through the minutes.

Now having made it through the move mostly unharmed.  On the outside I'm doing better.  I am retreating far less often.  the edge I have not left.  The sand is still slipping out from under me with the grey mist splashing at my face.  I want to turn walking away, but my feet are stuck, my mind frozen.  The fall is coming and I'm helpless in preventing the next episode of depression.  All I can do is watch. 

If not for my friendship with Jesus I would say all is hopeless.  It will overtake me and it will win.  However I am confident that there is a hope and that someday I will win this war, even if I lose this battle of here and now.

Your words were found and I ate them, and Your words became for me a joy and the delight of my heart; for I have been called by Your name, O LORD God of hosts.

~ Jeremiah 15:16

1693.  Unexpected dinner from a friend.

1694.  Brothers helping each other.

1695.  Sun light.

1696.  Sugar cookies

1697.  Bi-polar disorder, apart of my life.