The tip of my nose is barely above the water. My arms are flailing frantically, not the smooth, easy stroke of a practiced swimmer but the panicked flapping of someone who fears metaphorical drowning. There is no particular thing to blame or to point to or to fix. This is cumulative drowning. I know that in a day or a week, I will break the surface of the water and I will be able to draw deep, cleansing breaths and know that it will all be ok.
I am trying not to panic. I am trying to remember all the things I have to be grateful for. I am trying to remember that this will not matter in a year or maybe even a month. It isn't easy.
So, my defense mechanism is to want to curl up and sleep all day. Or do art and stay at home. I don't want to choose all the normal, every day things. I want to choose differently. But all my choices have lead me to this place. It is where I am. Wishing doesn't change anything, and it doesn't need to.
I think it is strange how fear backs up on me sometimes. Old stuff. Old thoughts. Mostly, I fight it off, but sometimes, it creeps up on me and grabs the oar and steers me offcourse. I will get back. It's just that dog-paddling is slower than actual swimming. I think it is the flailing.
Anyone have noseplugs?
Hello dear = I've been offline awhile, and here looking around for the first time in forever - how is your toy drive going? I bet more people are putting stuff in now - my husband and I always donate toys, but we never do it until about the beginning of Dec ... once the madness really kicks off :)
ReplyDeleteHang in there, I know you're gonna get toys.
And bless your sweet heart for collecting and donating.
I hope you find yourself in the shallow end soon. I understand your feeling (I think)so, for the time being, I'm wishing on the Universe to throw you a metaphorical life preserver.
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