I sit here battered and bruised. A veteran of therapy and breakdowns, depression and recovery. Yet, I know that I’m not whole. I will never be whole.
Have you ever felt like your life was like a boat adrift without a sail or rudder? Unable to set a course, to navigate, you’re at the mercy of the currents, bumping into people and situations, most of which are benign, but some dangerous. Extremely dangerous. Weathering those storms has left you listing, taking on water and in search of a port to anchor and repair the damage.
Is there any safe harbor? If your boat has always been rudderless, is there a way to manufacture one and set it in place while on open water. To regain control (if you ever had it) of steering?
There are sharks circling, smelling prey sure as the smell blood in the water. Sometimes you look over the side and think how easy it would be to just stop struggling, to let yourself fall into that dark abyss and the world beyond. It would be lovely to just stop struggling. You are mesmerized, leaning forward the water lapping at your face.
Then the danger appears, a fin perhaps or maybe a predator cruising close enough to snap you out of your reverie. There is danger below–beauty yes, but danger.
You pull inside the confines of your broken down vessel and hide. You hide a lot, letting the dangers and delights slide by. It may not be the best or even right decision but it’s safe. You crave safety. Wait…wait to see where the current will take you. Will it be safe harbor? Will youfinally get a rudder and sail? Will it be another helpful soul? Or, maybe a pirate waiting to steal a bit more of your vitality? You don’t know. You can’t think. You curl up and wait, rocked slowly on the waves.