WHIRLPOOL

I walked an unsuspicious path for many carefree years, with certain expectations for where I was heading, until the Moirai plunged me into a swirling torrent of illness and emotions. Here inside the turbulent churning muddy water, I can no longer see the green of the bank, and knowing that to walk again in the warmth of the sunshine resides only in my memory. Tumbling and rolling without direction, I desperately struggle to swim against the eddies that only pull me down further into the blackened depths of this whirlpool.

I can just make out the muffled sounds of those passing by, and watching my plight from the safety of solid ground. So many different comments: the sympathetic, who pity me; the unsympathetic; who think I'm not trying enough to get out; the religious, who tell me to pray; the grateful, that it's not them; the stupid, who tell me to put on a brave face; the indifferent, who don't give a shit; and of course the hateful, who are hoping I will drown; and a few who actually try and help. While the authorities tell me they will only provide aid, if I can prove that I'm really in difficulty, but most can never understand what it's really like to experience such life changing events.

That feeling of helplessness, knowing that how ever hard you swim, you're only temporarily treading water at best, against an inevitable tide that will eventually engulf you, was for me extremely difficult to cope with. Trying to convince myself that the fight is worth the effort, has never been far from my thoughts, especially when those spirits of fate throw rocks of further misfortune at me, whenever I can hold my head briefly above water, and can take a breath.

Accepting the reality of my situation intellectually was simple, the fact that I will continue to sink is self evident. Emotionally however, has been a very different matter. shaking off my anger, sadness, worries for what may come next, and memories of when my feet strode out solidly over the ground, has proven to be very hard indeed. I have been far too concerned with what I perceive as the unfairness of my situation, instead of the actuality of it. I will always be pissed off with the fates, for what has happened, but that should, and never stop me from doing my very best not to be totally overcome by the enormity of what is,, and what could come.

With every stroke I make becoming ever more difficult, keeping my mind clear so that I can see the best way forward is essential, if I am not to be pulled down increasingly more quickly to the waiting rocks below, and that means that I must fully accept that, dreaming of what has gone, and what could have been, will not pull me ashore. All I can do is to face whatever comes with fortitude by focusing all my efforts intellectually, physically, and emotionally into swimming as hard as I can, grab onto any lifebelt, branch, or rope thrown to me, and use any piece of flotsam and jetsam I find inside this spinning vortex, to help keep myself afloat as long as my mind and body will allow