A slip off the knife-edge is all it takes. Grabbing for threads that fluster in the wind is all I can muster, but it is better, it is bette than nothing and free-falling into infinity. I am currently in crisis. Life has planned a path for me that I am struggling to navigate alone. My ship is sailing east and I want to go west. I am rigging for empty sails, gaping with holes and rips that I am mourning for.
Waves are lashing up the side, overboard and drowning my rooted foundations. The dirt from the deck is swirling in a mess that I can’t quite manage to sweep up. I am trying to mop, steer and sail at once – but it is just little old me. I am the captain of this ghost ship on a voyage alone and so we slipped over the edge of the world and off my old radar, and back, unfortunately, onto the radar of the home treatment team. Back onto the radar of A&E in a crying crisis of hysteria, confusion and bewilderment. How did it get to this?
So I knock back what pills I can get, to numb the days in an attempt to bluster the pain away. I sleep my days away, and let the ship take rot wherever I may find myself washed up. Once i hit the ground again, I can start redoing my foundations and re-assessing how and where I planted my roots. For now, all I can do is take shelter in amongst my cabin. All I can do is lock the door and keep the key safe ready for when I can manage on my own again.
And I have to do it on my own – because she left. I am now a singleton in a mission, a mission for my sanity back, for my life, and for my future. I must believe that this storm will pass and that I have a future outside of this chaos, that I can make for myself, and leave everything that is going on now behind me.
For now though, I will hide and let the storm batter on. I am at the mercy of this illness right now.