Survival
Sometime back, in a blip long ago, I seem to recall writing about the time when we were on holiday and on a wild night camped up at a remote bay we witnessed and tried to rescue a man who walked out into the sea in front of us and tried to drown himself. It all escalated, a helicopter was called and a fisherman appeared around the headland. As he approached the drowning man he leant over the beam of his boat, lunged and grabbed hold of what he could and unceremoniously landed the chap in the bottom of his boat.

When we are floundering in such overtly obvious ways it is clear what needs to be done. Be it hunger or cold, etc. we know what to do at any point along the spectrum whether it means food or water aid or a trip to the supermarket and making dinner. Psychologically and emotionally it so much less clear and difficult for others to know how best to help, how services can intervene and support, and essentially, how to best help ourselves.

Yesterday, after writing my blip, some lunging hand, some part of myself, plunged into my gut, pulled out a heart rending sob of grief and then man handled me into the van, late. I’m grateful for these long summer days that are kind to the depressives that struggle to get going.

After psychologically writing my last blips I decided to go shopping instead. Banal works sometimes and having got the van out I felt I needed to justify it and get some exercise for this dead body so had somewhere that has long been in mind as my potential destination. Something about such empty, remote places that welcome you in and through like all those that have been before. They just soak us up with acceptance and/or indifference. I then picked up some tea and had it by the estuary that we had wild camped at years ago. It was very beautiful with the gulls zooming in on the incoming tide. I had thought of staying over but wanted to get back to have a sleepless night at home and do chores tomorrow before work again.