I am like a boat in the sea, and my seemingly never ending grief is a storm. My storm is raging, and yet again I find myself amidst a hurricane. I’m tired – I’ve barely gotten past one life altering storm before another has begun, over and over, for the last few years. Yet somehow I keep going, and somehow I am still here.
I think…hope is the anchor that keeps me from foundering and going under. I do have hope – some valid and some false and I try to differentiate the two within myself. Regardless, an anchor is dependent on two things: the chain that tethers it to the boat, and the solid ground that it grabs hold of when it is thrown out. But to have hope – to have and to hold on to faith – in the midst of my life’s storms…that’s what carries me. To believe in SOMETHING – sometimes myself, sometimes fate and the Universe and “something bigger,” sometimes the existence of some unseen and indescribable sixth sense – what my hope and faith is changes for me from day to day but to believe in something and to never allow myself to stop believing in SOMETHING… That’s how I go on.
My chain is invisible and I’m not sure what it’s made of…and it’s as though the ground my anchor digs into is my faith itself. Yes, it has wavered and the anchor has lifted and I begin to float and rock about every now and again. Ultimately, though? There is only one way for me, and it’s how I’ve been my entire life – forward.
Sometimes it’s slower than others, but it’s always…onward. Life goes on and so do I. But I’ll tell you, it hurts like a son of a bitch most all the time lately, even when I’m focusing on what’s real and good and right in my life; even as grateful and aware as I am and try to be.