That's the truth! I always seem to find ways of putting myself right where there is possibility of exactly that, but somehow usually manage to stay safe and unharmed. Someone greater than me is looking out for me, of that I am certain.
Hey, My heart goes out to you. I can relate. I'm Bipolar also. They diagnosed me as manic-depressive years ago, but it still took years for a diagnosis. I'm doing much better these days, but still have my highs and lows. The combination of Lexapro and Abilify has been the greatest help. I've tried a lot of different medication combos, and I have to say that just adding Abilify has helped me greatly!
My furbabies are everything to me. They're always near. I have two terrier-mix little girls. I wouldn't even want to think of what life would be like without them. They may be dogs, but they're good for hugs, cuddling, and talking to. They've been with me through thick and thin. You're so right, they are definitely perceptive. They know when you need extra attention, and they know when to keep an eye out for you. They are definitely a blessing from God.
If you ever need to talk or just rant, feel free to write me. I hope you're feeling better.
LeJenD, you're not by yourself. I've battled depression in cycles throughout my life so far. I think in some ways, it's hereditary. As an adult, I have become convinced, that my Mom had undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder. When she was feeling "good," she'd take my brother and me to "the big town" to play all day. When she was feeling "bad," I had my hands full counseling her for hours. Who knew that wasn't a teenager's job?
Poetry has become such a balm for my soul. The depression is still there, but it seems to bring some level of relief when I put my feelings down in a poem. Amazingly enough, some of my best poetry has been written when I was depressed. The Lord has graciously given me the gift of poetry.
BTW, dogs are quite perceptive animals. Mine is lying on the floor near me as I write. I think she's a gift from God, too.
It's a typical Texas summer day. The overwhelming heat has wilted the leaves on the lantana and scorched the bare earth. The sand burns the bottoms of my bare feet as I walk outside to check on my flowers and trees. The heat presses down on me, even in the shade. I pant for lack of air cool enough to breathe and my arms glisten with the formation of sweat after only a few minutes outside. My dog is at my side, faithful as ever, even though the thickness of his fur is surely making things even harder on him. There are no birds or little mammals out right now. They're probably hiding in their burrows or in the deep shade of the woods to escape at least some of this heat wave. I read the thermometer after I woke this morning; at 8 a.m. it was already almost 95 degrees Fahrenheit. I must be getting old because I remember days like this in my youth, days where this inescapable heat didn't affect me the way it does now. Memories of a young me popping the tar that bubbled up from the road in front of my childhood home with my bare toes. I know I couldn't do that now. The heat is too much for me. It steals my breath and energy, and it presses down on me like an invisible wet blanket. I should be in the house, basking in the cool air of the A/C. Instead, I am outside making sure this horrendous heat isn't sapping the life from the plants I so lovingly planted and care for. And the dog remains beside me, too overheated for his usual antics. I should probably hurry up out here and get back inside. Back to the coolness of the house and a soft place for the dog to rest. The forecast is for triple digit heat today after all. And it's not even July yet. It's going to be one Hell of a summer.
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