My children, young and complaining, made the hike up into Lamoille Canyon today, through the campground. All the way up and all the way down. We were stunned by the powerful mountain water rushing over falls and then curving, like an Action Park waterslide downward (for those Jerseyphiles who remember the dangerous Action Park, you understand...). We sloshed through mud streams the size of street drains and lined with pegmatites . We crossed snow banks, heard nothing but the wind and saw nothing but pointy granite peaks. Oh, and can't forget the pristine beaver pond! It was magnificent.
Kids made it up...and when my son complained that he would "never ever" be able to make it down, I held his hand. I instructed him on how to point his feet sideways on the downward slopes, and how to bend over to grab boulders for balance (he was so much closer to the ground than I). Before I knew it, my kids were far ahead of me on the trail downward -- as we decided that a trek to the far peak would require some winter gear -- and I was able to view the canyon before me.
It was quite lovely. I wish it would have impressed me the way it used to do.
After we drove back down the canyon road and arrived home, I had transported them from car seats to bedrooms -- warm with sunlight -- I went to the garage and cried. All the feelings of nothingness in a world of beauty do nothing to rip the disease from within my abdomen. Again I found myself begging god to take me away, not to hurt anyone, only to make the horrible hopelessness exhaust itself.
Then I took one of my medically prescribed medications...and that was my manic episode for the day.
Check out my bi-polar blog "You Remind Me Of Myself" if you think it's worth it...I certainly wouldn't waste the time...