Tackling the Sea of Life

My life at the moment is like I've been dropped in the middle of the ocean. I've been splashing and flailing, trying desperately to grab on to any trash or sticks drifting by, for support, but everything just sinks beneath me. I'm suppose to keep going. I'm suppose to push forward through all the storms, through all the obstacles. It's my job as a mother and daughter, as a woman to carry all the weight and help all those who need it. I have to do better. I have to be better.

My head keeps dipping under the water. My arms and legs are so tired and aching. I can't keep pushing anymore. It hurts. It's so hard. So I stop for moments at a time and try to just float in place. I try to find contentment in my situation. That's what everyone says to do. Just find peace where you are. But it hurts just as much as moving does, if not more. The sun and salt burn my skin. The fish nip at me from beneath the water. There has to be more to life than this. And then I continue forward again. I try to swim in every direction all at once, making no progress. Only tiring myself out more. But I'm so desperate for change, for growth... for happiness.

I pray and seek guidance. I try to wave down others as they pass. Some in boats or on boards and planks. Some are even mindlessly flailing about in the water just as much as me. I want so badly for someone to pull me out, someone to save me. But then I become afraid, even when they approach, because I don't want to drag them down with me. I don't want to be the reason anyone else sinks into this hell. So I continue to push forward. After some time, when I'm close to just letting go completely and letting the dark, cold ocean drag me down to the bottom, where the creatures of the dark are waiting for me to give up and join them. I see a floaty or perhaps a small pool noodle drifting by. I grab onto it and cling on to this small, fragile offer of relief for dear life. At least now my arms can rest. But my mind and body never will. I still must survive, as always.

I never let go of my new small comfort. It's all that's keeping me from drowning now. At least it feels that way. But having this small thing has helped me to be able to think for a moment... reflect. Maybe I need to pick one single direction and move forward that way, at least until I can't anymore. So I do. I pick any direction and I move forward that way in both the calm and the storms. Until I hit a cliff wall and can go no farther. Then I pick a new direction, any direction but back. But I keep hitting this towering high cliff sides, dead ends. I'm starting to wear out again. My legs tired and my new hope wavering yet again. My once comforting floating device becoming less and less of a help, if anything it's starting to wear away.

Maybe I should still keep pushing this way. Is it not better than the way I was moving before? Maybe one of the turn will finally lead to dry land and a clear path. Or maybe I should just let go of this silly little floaty. Maybe my next move, as scary as it may be, should be to let go of the small comfort that no longer is benefiting me and try to climb one of these cliff walls. I could get out of this salty, unforgiving ocean. The worst that could happen is I fall back into the water and have to start the climb over. Or I can swim to another cliff until I find one that's easier to climb. Despite being in this ocean for as long as I have, I still have no clue what I'm doing or what I need to do. All I know for sure is, no matter what happens, I can not turn back. I have to learn from my failures. I have to always move forward, far away from my past. The only thing that awaits me there is death and defeat.