My best friend asked me today how I was doing in light of everything that happened in the last 24 hours. I've been dealing surprisingly well.. relatively speaking of course. By well, I mean, I'm at the very least functioning.
The last time this happened I was a blubbering mass of emotion and tears. I'm feeling fairly numb this time around and though I have wept in sorrow, apart from the initial post-break-up breakdown, I've wept but have not experience the face-swelling, shoulder-shaking, wracking sobs, the uncontrollable torrent.
I put it to her this way.. if the last time I was a Titanic-scale emotional wreck, this time I'm more of an Edmund Fitzgerald scale wreck. Less carnage, but no survivors.
It struck me funny that this binary has me viewing the situation in a series of nautical metaphors...
Our first go round seemed to me as something like the Titanic.. New, Huge, All-encompassing and indestructible. My confidence was such that I felt nothing could sink or destroy what I felt we had. With naive abandon I screamed "full speed ahead!" and pushed on into the night. When faced with icy reality, I was all but destroyed.
And the band played on...
We tried again.
This time, setting off with far more cargo than I, nay, we were capable of carrying into uncertain waters and a forecast that said "turn back, turn back". When things got rough and uncertain, the storm brewed and as the night wore on, it became apparent that things had gone from bad to worse and there'd be no survivors come morning. That ship has sailed and shall not be returning to shore.
Allow me a moment to stretch this already absurd analogy, as my various creative outlets will act as my life-raft as I navigate the wreckage and eventually find myself on solid ground once again.
Day one. Just keep swimming.
In keeping with our theme, and because Gord always makes me feel a little bit better:
And yes, Ninja man, you should TOTALLY click on that. In the name of being a good friend lol.