Rain

Miraculous power and marvellous activity
Drawing water and chopping wood

– Pangyun, lay Zen practitioner

I’m resurfacing – am I resurfacing? I’m resurfacing. Drowning doesn’t look like drowning, and it’s hard to know, sometimes, if you’re gasping or sobbing.

Still.

I nearly broke down in the lab yesterday over some poor experimental results, but – a few breaths. Walk to the station in pouring rain – rain, which I’ve always found comforting; rain, siling down, washing the grease away. Summer’s heavy in the air, it’s nice to feel myself resurfacing from myself. Take in the view.

The view, it turns out, isn’t all splashy leaves and kids with cute brollies.

Depression – even brief episodes – fucks with your life. I might as well have been on a month long bender, only now coming to; looking about my room, the mess and the grimy dishes; thinking back, thinking ‘fuck’. Brief depressive episodes, a chaos switch which scrambles your life. I’m behind with my studies, my finances have taken a hammering, and let’s not talk about the state of my laundry, OK?

At least I finally got around to shaving.

There was a time I’d beat myself up over this. There was a time I’d start panicking about my scrambled life, about having to try to fix everything. But panicking doesn’t help, beating yourself up doesn’t help. These things happen, and it’s a bitch, but you pick yourself up and you pick a pile of plates up and you tackle the mess, one bit at a time. Panic doesn’t get things done. Doing things get’s things done.


 It was pouring with rain
And I thought oh God
You know, good old England
Just Jack, ‘Writer’s Block’

So all’s well that ends well, eh?

Maybe.

I feel like I’m resurfacing. Am I resurfacing? I don’t know. Rain pours down, I lift my head and smile. A week, this might all be chaos again, sticky fear and mouldy mugs. And so? So what? Rain will come again, washing the grease away.

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