Salvation

Remembering the first time I stepped onto this small island, the thick, hot air making me dizzy and tired. I wanted to sleep, but I found some fish for dinner washed up from the shore. I then checked my surroundings. The sand was so coarse and the environment so harsh,

I wanted to give up.

My plans for life were out of my hands, however. I was told I must swim among sharks to make my way to my salvation.

It’s not as though I forgot to take my medicine, I most certainly did. I cannot bring myself to tell them how I got there, all those years, by my lonesome.

But, as a doctor once said, “The ocean and the sand and the island was a manifestation of inner emptiness. Mood disorders can be picked out easily among this mess of fantasies.”

But, no, I felt it. The gravely sand and broken shells, the way the ocean breeze tickles your throat as you inhale and the wonderful things that you can find there. A large conch shell that sounded like a warm whisper, a reassuring message of recovery, however long it might take.

But, as I see that misty harbor with the boat coming ever closer, my stomach drops and my blood runs cold. There’s someone I know on that boat.

I carried out the way of island life, so dutiful In my own survival, that I had forgotten that in my monotony, I have never been fully awake.

A dream I always had:

A warm blanket wrapped around me,

Like the warm sun,

I feel it’s tight embrace.

Suddenly, I’m running. But not running.

Sprinting.

Wildly and without Inhibitions.

I finally understand why I was away all this time. Before I really truly let go, I go back to the sea. I swim among the sharks. I am truly unafraid now.

I’m waiting for them to bring me back. No conditions: just love. My family.

I see her. My mother.

She is waiting.

The ship sinks. I falter.

Then I wake up. My whole chest feels bursting, intensely alive with an intense pumping of my heart, my wild eyes twitching, my breath uneven.

Where am I?

I look out at the large foundation in the middle, a haze of light, sand and water (white walls?)—-I am not getting any reception.

I squint my eyes, looking out beyond my surrounds. Is that... a cell tower? No, it is a huge Boulder. I’m not sure. But I cannot Reach anyone. I’m not allowed.

As I’m sitting here, crouched down for a moment by the shadowy boulder, I stood up to feel the sun on my face. For a brief moment, it looked at though it was salvation for me, at last. An approaching vessel appeared to be on its way.

I’m lost, I whisper to the empty shell, lonely and lost.

Just then, a figure coming from the ship, whom I vaguely can recall that I’ve met before, hands me a cup of what I assume is water.

As I look, there’s small pebbles in there, and I’m confused. There appears to be small numbers and letters written on it.

They just nod and reassure me it’s okay.

I know I took my medicine. But I swallow anyway.

I look up at the misty harbor, and the boat approaching looks familiar.

Salvation, at last.

———————-

Fin.

Author note: I wrote this in 2018, and when I saw the challenge for an approaching ship fiction—-I knew this would be a perfect example of how disoriented and confusing mental illness can be. People who are in a situation where reality and fantasy meld together, it can be a very difficult thing to separate the two apart at times. I added a bit to the middle, as it needed a bit more clarification, but as this is read—it is meant to disorient the reader. Hopefully, to truly understand the truth behind this is to get into the mind of the person in torment first hand.

Associating salvation (an ever-approaching ship that never truly comes to get them) with the possibility of being released from a mental health facility can be both hopeful and a terrifying moment for people dealing with depression, bipolar disorder, anxiety and other mental disorders where the patient can not distinguish between their perceived reality and true reality.

As it is, some people dealing with mental health issues can associate negative things with the people closest to them. Sometimes, their surroundings and different levels of mental stability can alter and change something safe into something scary—-or likewise. Sometimes, scary and tramatic memories can unearth things that cause withdrawal, panic attacks and antisocial behavior. That requires patience and understanding to truly show the person dealing with it that they are safe and loved. It can help with healing.

Here are some resources for you or anyone you know dealing with mental illness, depression and other anxiety driven problems. We’ve all been there, and now more than ever, it is important to be aware of these problems and always be supportive and kind!

https://www.nami.org/Get-Involved/Awareness-Events/Mental-Health-Awareness-Month

As always, be safe and healthy! Be happy (but don’t force it) and hope you all enjoyed this story and article! Love you guys! Happy reading and happy writing ✍️

-Melissa