You wake up in a tiny room of moldy white walls. It’s illuminated by a single flickering bulb dangling uncovered by a fragile rusty chain, the cords intertwine broken and taped together into a spiraling stalk that climbs into the ceiling. You sit up and notice a barred window just large enough to see out of, and when you approach it, you find that you are in unfamiliar territory. It's dark and foggy, and the land between the raging waves of the sea are crashing maliciously onto the jaded rocks of the shore before you. The storm is screaming with thunder so intense it rattles your organs and splits your eardrums. The lightning so bright it illuminates the dire isolation of your bondage. Something you notice, the filthy steel restraint locked firmly around your ankle, and a chain just long enough to allow you to move around your solitary confinement. The light flickers with every thunderous roar, and with it your heart.
This is depression.
The building is crumbling around you, sawdust and bits of rubble pummel down the walls of the aching ceiling. You scramble to free yourself or fear you'll be crushed beneath the weight of whatever lies above you. Frantically, your hands dive into your pockets and search the creases of the floors and walls for anything that has the potential to free you from this nightmare. Your heart races and your chest heaves deep struggling breaths of terror. You feel a crawling beneath your skin that burns the back of your neck like you're standing in fire. Finally, you find a bent bobby pin and shove it into the keyhole with desperation. Your breath becoming more and more shallow with each failed attempt to unlatch the restraint. The walls are narrowing and the ceiling deteriorating quickly. Still, the storm rages, and still, you pick at the lock. The light flickers more and more until it finally loses life. Now the only thing to illuminate the room are the intense flashes of lightning entering through the window pane. The walls around you are falling in and a hole has emerged in the corner, large enough to crawl out of. Your eyes are fixated on that exit as you continue to wiggle away at the lock. Finally, you feel the restraint give way. You stand to your feet and dive through the hole as the ceiling finally loses its battle.
This is anxiety.
You find yourself standing in the midst of a relentless storm, between the rain and the waves, your clothes are already drenched. You glance around the small island and see a lanterns glow in the distance. You try to run but you can't make your body react with your mind. Below the lantern sits a boat, solitude, a saving grace but still, you can't budge. The waves are bearing down on you, knocking you to the ground and begging to drag you out to sea. As you scramble to your feet you know that you have no choice. You must move forward. You slowly drag yourself closer and closer to the lantern. You're arms shielding you from the branches and debris that are being hurled into the wind attacking you from all directions. You picture yourself back in the room with the walls and ceiling collapsing around you. Again, you cannot move. You're paralyzed with fear and anxiety. It feels all too familiar. You can't escape it. The world around you is shattering down onto you. You're alone. You're afraid. You shake your head and blink your eyes quickly, trying to snap yourself out of it. You push onward though your heart is beating so violently that it feels like it may jump out of your throat. Finally, you've made it to the boat, you climb in and push off of the dock without knowing where you'll go.
This is PTSD.
Aboard the boat, you shiver as the storm beats against you filling the insignificant little boat with water. You cup your hands and desperately try to keep yourself from going under. The freezing water that you’re scooping out of the hull numbs your hands. You look out across the darkness and notice that the storm is slowly dying down. The waves are retracting and the turmoil is starting to slow down. In the distance a ball of light hovers out in front of you. It's calling to you to follow. When you look at the light you can feel your body becoming warmer and your heart slowing down. Your breathing steady's and even though you’re still lost and afraid, you feel a small glimmer of salvation. You paddle behind the light mesmerized by its calming beauty. You don't know where it's taking you but you know that it's better than where you've been.
This is hope.
You wake up. It was just a dream. You know you'll dream of this again, but you don't care because, with every dream that begins as a nightmare, the end remains the same. A soft, warm glimmer of hope that you'll follow to the ends of the oceans.
“Weather the storm, don’t fight it, if the wind doesn’t blow your way, simply adjust the sails.”
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