This week has been a tumultuous ride of diving and soaring emotions. As I've tried to surf the ragged emotions of the week, often falling off into its frothing, shampoo, clawing my way desperately back to the surface again, I've been reflecting on how we hold onto sanity and a sense of normality when events tip us into an arena that is completely alien and wholly uninviting.
Friends/family and priorities is my conclusion. Without my friends I would not have had the daily propping up necessary to get through the imminent minutes/hours; without my family I would not have had the security of knowing that whatever life throws at me they will always be my safety net; and now my priorities have to change; as a close friend observed to me ' your only recourse now is to prioritise your children and at long-last yourself.'
I'm still not sure what that will mean, but it feels right, albeit strange, as I worry about being alone. However, I have also found huge comfort in an experience a year ago almost to the day; Holkham beach. I am swimming alone in the ocean. The sea is calm, the sky very blue, the air warm as I float on my back, completely cut off yet strangely connected too; the moon hangs from the vapoury trail of a lone flight, imprinted on the sky like a minim on a music score, and as I drift a white gull glides over and there is only me, the bird and the moon and peace.