There are days when even the thought of getting out of bed is too much to bear.
You pull the covers over your head, try and rid yourself of the feeling of sinking in quicksand and, if you’re able, let the tears flow.
The bus to work is an inhumane torture, the apparent tedium of the daily routine crushes your spirit.
All the time, you are fighting back the urge to cry. Everything is poised, immeasurably delicately.
I have had a few of these days recently and I have just gone with the flow, trying to tell myself I am just a stick in a stream. When the stream is done with me, it will throw me back on the bank, wet and a little insecure, but intact.
It’s a fairly childish analogy but it helps!
But then there are days when just the merest hint of sunlight is enough to set your spirits soaring.
A touch of lightness inhabits everything and everyone. Those patches of blue sky, the lengthening shadows on the pavements – they are enough, they are all you need.
On these days too I’m a stick in a stream, enjoying the feeling of motion. I am being propelled forward. I don’t know where or why but you have to find out.
When the stream runs dry, at least we can say we swam.