I’m just a normal boy that sank when I fell overboard…
I’ve always thought of my mind as the ocean in a storm; dark, vast, scary, rough, endless, deep, reckless, damaging. That I was like a ship on that sea in that storm, fighting minute to minute for survival, striving and determined to not let that ocean swallow me.
I dive into my thoughts as one jumps from the bow of a boat without knowing how to swim, quickly sinking to the bottom of everything and turning around to see the sunlight fade as I descend to the depths, hoping for someone to save me, only to discover nobody is coming.
But there is a difference between willingly jumping into that abyss and falling overboard. Choosing to descend and fight as your breath leaves your body and being drawn down by forces that feel out of your control are not the same.
I have often found myself treading water and discovered that I had no life raft to hold to, falling deeper into total darkness until I rested on the seafloor observing life swim around me like a school of fish might swim around a sunken ship, watching in envy as life continued above me while I sat in the wet sand and slowly lost myself to the dark water.
The waves crash against the coast, boats fight the storm with hope of returning safely to land, and the fish take shelter around me while I fight for my life at the bottom of the whirlpool.
I am alone.
This will be a different kind of blog. This will not be the warm, happy ending Coffee on Tuesday style of writing that you may remember if you knew me back then. The coffee shops I used to sit in and write are just Starbucks. The room I used to call my office has been lived in by someone else for almost 10 years. The relationships I fought so hard for have all come to an end. The MacBook I wrote nearly 25 columns on is in pieces in a box in my garage. Life carried on, and when I could, I did too.
This summer, I invite you to join me in a new blog I’ve been considering writing for a few years. In it, I will discuss my battle with depression and anxiety, my struggle with PTSD, the fear I faced with worrying about being a good father, stories which have stuck with me over the years, and the uncertainty I felt when I made a life changing decision.
I’ve always thought of my mind as the ocean in a storm. This June, I hope you’ll follow me Into the Ocean…
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