Sun, sea and shrinks
I can’t quite believe that the monthly date with my lovely shrink has come around again. He has been on holiday, sailing in the Caribbean (you see we have things in common too) and he has a tan. My oh my, and older man with salt and pepper hair, who understands me, with a tan. Well, I could hardly speak. There was definitely more eye contact than usual, I’m not pubescent, so it can’t have been my imagination, I could hardly meet his gaze. As always he was full of insightful words of wisdom. ‘Seven months is not very long at all, considering the severity of the trauma’ he reassured me, ‘I think you are being too hard on yourself in expecting to be recovered already’. I told him I was bored, BORED of it all, I just wanted to be able to turn the switch off. Of course he understood, but he said I still needed to process it all, talk as much as I like, read about everything that I’m drawn to, try with all my might to comprehend, it would help me in the end. He said that if it made me feel any better, he was equally fascinated by everything that is flying about in the media about terrorism, Iraq, Hamza, anti terrorism spin (or was that laws?). It did make me feel better, maybe it’s not even because I was there, perhaps I would still be desperately trying to understand.
As ever, I walked away with a spring in my step, climbed into my little baby and headed for the sea. It was dark and freezing when I arrived and I had a rotten night’s sleep. I thought maybe getting out of London would help the sleeping thing, but it didn’t. I woke up on Saturday morning feeling exhausted and crabby, until I opened the curtains. The first thing that hit me was the expanse of blue sky before me. You never see that amount of sky in London. The heart warming hue of the light casting itself across the harbour lifted my spirits and awakened a part of me that has been dormant for many months. I laughed to myself as I watched the ferocious waves throwing themselves at the sea wall with a strength unequalled by human might. White horses were roaring in from the ocean, battered trees were grasping at the soil to stand their ground, I had to get out there.
I threw on my coat, grabbed my ipod and raced out to feel the elements. I walked and walked along the beach, the wind pounding my very core and the sound of the waves audible above the music. I can’t remember the last time I felt so free. Looking out at the horizon I realised that my mind was opening with the depth of my vision. When the curvature of the earth is the only thing that limits how far you can see, when the sky meets the ocean before your eyes, only then do you understand your place on this earth.
I rounded the headland and the white cliffs rose above me. The rollers were sprinting along the flat expanse of sand. As they broke they threw up spray which shrouded the entire bay in a salty mist. I could feel the power with which they thrust themselves upon the sand. With music playing in my head, the wind and ocean battling all around me, I started to run. I was filled with an energy that came from within, I skipped and danced with my arms outstretched as I followed the meeting of land and sea.
I danced like a woman possessed, anyone watching would have thought I was mad. Well they’d be right.
I have a psychological disorder borne from finding myself in a blown up tube hundreds of feet underground. In this day and age that makes me mad. I revelled in my craziness and the freedom it gave me from social normalities. For a few moments I could understand why my schitzophrenic friend doesn’t like taking his medication. There is indeed sanctity in madness.
As ever, I walked away with a spring in my step, climbed into my little baby and headed for the sea. It was dark and freezing when I arrived and I had a rotten night’s sleep. I thought maybe getting out of London would help the sleeping thing, but it didn’t. I woke up on Saturday morning feeling exhausted and crabby, until I opened the curtains. The first thing that hit me was the expanse of blue sky before me. You never see that amount of sky in London. The heart warming hue of the light casting itself across the harbour lifted my spirits and awakened a part of me that has been dormant for many months. I laughed to myself as I watched the ferocious waves throwing themselves at the sea wall with a strength unequalled by human might. White horses were roaring in from the ocean, battered trees were grasping at the soil to stand their ground, I had to get out there.
I threw on my coat, grabbed my ipod and raced out to feel the elements. I walked and walked along the beach, the wind pounding my very core and the sound of the waves audible above the music. I can’t remember the last time I felt so free. Looking out at the horizon I realised that my mind was opening with the depth of my vision. When the curvature of the earth is the only thing that limits how far you can see, when the sky meets the ocean before your eyes, only then do you understand your place on this earth.
I rounded the headland and the white cliffs rose above me. The rollers were sprinting along the flat expanse of sand. As they broke they threw up spray which shrouded the entire bay in a salty mist. I could feel the power with which they thrust themselves upon the sand. With music playing in my head, the wind and ocean battling all around me, I started to run. I was filled with an energy that came from within, I skipped and danced with my arms outstretched as I followed the meeting of land and sea.
I danced like a woman possessed, anyone watching would have thought I was mad. Well they’d be right.
I have a psychological disorder borne from finding myself in a blown up tube hundreds of feet underground. In this day and age that makes me mad. I revelled in my craziness and the freedom it gave me from social normalities. For a few moments I could understand why my schitzophrenic friend doesn’t like taking his medication. There is indeed sanctity in madness.
posted by Holly Finch at
11:14 PM
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