Monday, April 18, 2011

The Edge

At the Edge
Photo Credit Martin Junius

I’m standing on the edge of the dark waters.

The cool darkness laps at my feet calling me in, begging me to dive in.

It would be so easy, so much easier to fall in. Let the dark waters encompass me.

It’s hard to ignore their call.

It’s hard to stand on the edge, with one foot in and one foot out. Trying to balance the pull of normalcy with the alluring waves of drowning in darkness.

The waters pull a little harder daily, enticing, calling. Making you wonder, maybe just a little. Maybe if I engage it just a little I can float on the top. Float on those waters with out being pulled under, without drowning.

You can’t, I can’t.

The water is deep, the undercurrent pulls, step to far in and you're pulled under.

I’m on the edge and I'm being pulled in, but this time, this time I know about the current.

I know how fast it can pull you out without you even realizing it.

This time I have reached the other way, grabbed for the shore, the sun the light.

It’s harder, I’m weary.

As strong as the current is, I have to be twice as strong.

Gripping, slipping, pulling, at the shore.

I pull and I pull because it’s not just about me anymore, its about them too and I pull for them.

I reach out for help because of them.

It’s for them that I grab the rope.

Help to pull myself up. I am no longer scraping at the ground on my own desperate to pull up, I have help.

With every pull my muscles get stronger, the path easier and I get farther and farther away from that edge, from the lapping water of the dark.

I’m not out yet, it’s still lapping at my feet, licking my toes with it’s sweet lies and unfilled promises.

So I reach out and I pull myself further.

One day, one day soon (I hope and pray) it will just be a dark shadow.

So far away you can barely see, hard to make out if it’s a puddle, a pond or an ocean. Far enough away that it’s lapping waves cannot touch me, entice me, ask me to dive in.

But for now, it’s right there, lapping at my feet, grabbing at my ankles trying to pull.

So I reach out, I grab on and I pull.


The Sisters' Hood said...

... its not just about me anymore ...

Beautiful piece.
Love how you depicted the struggle, and your strength in surviving. Love to you this Monday morning.

Krista @ Not Mommy of the Year said...

So powerful & touching. Wishing you much support & encouragement as you fight the current.

Alita said...

You know, as I told you, that I am very proud of you for reaching out "for them" but also for yourself. It is a big deal. And if you need anything don't hesitate to ask. or email/twitter/fb/call/skype/etc

You get the picture Mel. I will pray for ya hon. xo!!!

Jen said...


love this...your honesty. I struggle, although I cannot really call it ppd anymore...but it is hard to talk about with others...without them thinking you are are on the brink...I can function but I have daily moments of being on the edge.

Thanks for sharing your struggle and your triumph...praying you through.


Hyacynth said...

Here for ya, friend, if you need coffee/playdate/momentsoffleetingsanity/prayer. Whatever. You name it, you got it.

Shell said...

You are one strong mama!

MamaRobinJ said...

This is exactly how I feel. Exactly. My toes are in there - maybe even my ankles. At times it feels like I'm hip deep. I'm tired of pulling, but I'm still pulling. Glad you are too.