My Dark Inside Sea

Change is hard

Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash

I’ve lost something that I loved. Well, I think I have.

I know I’m not the only one. I’m actually very fortunate. This has been a hard year and I have lost less than other people. But that doesn’t stop me from feeling sad. Feeling a deep sense of loss that is so profound that if I access the feeling I fear that I might sink totally into the angry dark sea inside that covers it. I have to survive from one day to the next, to function and enjoy things. The way I do that is to keep the sea deep inside. It is there, but it is covered by stones, grass and trees so I can’t always see it.

I would associate this depth of feeling with a tragic death or terminal diagnosis. Losing a partner in a car crash or finding that your cough is cancer and you have 6 weeks to live. Catastrophic events.

I feel stupid and petty. I have only lost one relative through the pandemic — which was expected and not related to the pandemic. It was also a relative that I wasn’t all that close to. That is not what is making me feel so dark inside.

Before the pandemic, I was a dancer. I danced most nights of the week, modern jive and modern blues mainly. A few months before the pandemic I was severely anaemic and I didn’t have the stamina to keep up with my dancing. I still went, but I sat and chatted a lot. I got to…