The other night I lay on the couch and watched a documentary about tsunamis. During this time, a story was recounted that I have heard many times before. Every time I hear it, I am fascinated.

Apparently, in the 1950’s, a giant wave formed in a small Alaskan bay. Today, you can see proof of its aftermath in the varying ages of vegetation along the coast. Younger trees grow lower and closer to the water while older trees grow higher up. A distinct line can be seen where the differently aged trees meet.

It is now thought that this wave was taller than the Empire State Building.

During this time, a tiny boat with a father and his young son on board was adrift in the bay. When the wave came upon them, the father had to make a quick decision. Certain they would die at the mercy of this monstrous beast, he decided to do what he could to fight it…despite their seemingly hopeless chances. The choice he made was interesting. Instead of trying to outrun it, or let go completely, he turned his boat directly into the wall of water…dropped its anchor chain…and pushed as hard as he could into their impending doom.

When he did this, the wave lifted their tiny boat and carried them to its peak. For several moments, it left them dangling on its waters high above the trees below. It is then they thought they would fall…that they would meet their end in the branches beneath them. But, instead of throwing them, the wave gently pushed the tiny boat over its crest until they rested quietly in the waters behind it. And they lived to tell their tale.

Sometimes I think that maybe I am like the father in this tiny boat and the Bipolars are like the gargantuan wave that could easily consume me. I know the only way to really deal with them is by facing them head on…by acknowledging their presence and dropping my anchor and driving face first into their terror. And sometimes, in this struggle, I find myself dangling precariously over my own blanket of trees…so close that I can sometimes feel the tips of the branches…and I think…My God, please don’t drop me there…but like the wave, the Bipolars also eventually release me in a calm spot, when I accept their presence and actively deal with the challenges they present. No, you cannot always escape disaster.

But you can learn to ride it out.