Looking for Lifeguards as I Ride the Wave of Depression

Envision the ocean.

Above this oceanic magnificence is a soaring, glorious, stunning wave, gliding gracefully over the surface of the sea. In a decisive haste beneath the wave, all life swims frenetically in the direction contrary to the wave’s course. The wave is blithe and liberated. The wave is in command of its path. There are no barriers. If any were to attempt to intercept, the wave would smash right through the blockades, knocking each one down. The more distance the wave covers, the more vigor it gains. The wave is undeniably unstoppable.

Then the shoreline comes into sight. The wave knows it is rapidly approaching its own ruin, but it continues, despite the awareness that the shore will be devastating. It crashes onto the sand. The ocean has regained command and pulls the remnants of the once splendid wall of water back into the unbounded depth and darkness. The wave has no authority over the deep.

I ride this wave. My depression isn’t always in the spotlight. The struggle is reaching out before I crash. There is always a lifeguard stationed to help me. My lifeguards are my husband and my therapist. When I’m riding on the top of that wave and I see the end, all I have to do is signal them somehow. They’ll be at the edge of the water, prepared to break my fall and hold onto me so the deep cannot completely envelop me again. Sometimes I watch my lifeguards wade into my waters to meet me before the break. They are willing to fight the tides for me.

Reach out. You have a lifeguard also. They are all around you. It’s difficult to signal for help, but a skilled lifeguard will see the danger before it comes for us.

Follow this journey on Writing With Kryptonite.

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Unsplash photo via Tim Marshall

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