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I float.

What I mean is this:  When chaos brought on by my own stupidity, the actions of others, or some combination thereof conspires to pull my head below the surface, I don’t drown.  I don’t stay under for long.  There’s a brief struggle, a little desperation, but then the concerned effort of a few hard kicks brings me gasping back into the sun.

I’ve floated for so long now that there’s really no other option, at least not on the days when my meds are working and I’ve had enough sleep.  On those days I cannot even think in terms of “failure.”  There is no failure.  Instead, there are long stretches of relative peace punctuated by chaotic upheaval.  Or to think about it another way, there are long stretches of chaotic upheaval punctuated by relative peace.  Either viewpoint works.

Every time I’ve needed to practice floating, I’ve been reminded of the amazing power of  connections.  Chaos stirs things up so that the negatives are washed away and new possibilities present themselves.  In concrete terms this means that when one relationship breaks several others take its place, and I’m left with stronger, more secure connections than I had before.

I’ve felt this so much this week, as one job has painfully passed away.  My friends have circled ’round; they’ve put me in touch with others who have offered support in unexpectedly wonderful ways.

All I can do is thank them, wait for the chaos to ease, and keep on floating.

——

(To save you the trouble of pointing it out in the comments:  YES I KNOW about the many other things which also float, such as wood, bread, apples, very small rocks, a duck, and of course the obvious.)