Sea Changes

You learn something new everyday. My favourite lessons, regardless of how distressing, no -- torturous, they may be at first, are those bring me crashing down a million pegs, deliver a desperately needed talking to, and force me to strip down to bare, cruel nothingness, to really look at myself, under the harshest arc lights, surrounded by pristine mirrors from every conceivable angle, magnifying ponderous flaws conveniently tucked into blind spots. To admit, to acknowledge, to confess, to walk over burning coals of self-reproach and self-abasement with painful determination. And to what end? One that only serves to mark the beginning of yet another phase of slow recuperation, hesitant acceptance, stealthily creeping indulgence, wanton, unapologetic mental decay, followed by fresh jolt of gut-wrenching horror and devastation.

Rather pointless? Decidedly. My favourite? Yes, unquestionably. Why? A multitude of reasons, not in the least because they enable me to nurture the notion that maybe, just maybe, some good will come out of it all in the end. Whatever end. Whenever it ends. I do think it’s time I stopped pretending I’ve given up on myself completely. Dead already? Not yet, at all.