I remember many, many years ago diving in the Turks and Caicos.. As my friend and I slid backwards in to the water, and the bubbles disappeared, I saw the shadow of a shark swiftly flicking back in to the darker waters, out of sight. As we enjoyed the beauty of the deep blue, I could feel the prickle of something or someone watching us; and every now and then, my peripheral vision would pick up on a flash of a sultry silhouette. No obvious threat, but just the lingering feeling of a darker presence. I knew it was there. It knew I was there. One eye on me, my eye on it, trying to ignore it in order to enjoy the fascinating new world I found myself swimming in.
That’s how I would describe the memories of my past.
I know it’s there. My conscious mind and my subconscious mind, swimming around in my head, circling.
That’s why my IBS flared up. My nausea and stomach cramps telling me to look at the shark. Acknowledge it. Stare it out and let it swim back in to the murky, dusky depths.
I don’t like looking at it. It scares me. It angers me. It upsets me. But God, it feels good, when it disappears again.
I can relax. My shoulders can drop. My stomach stops churning. My head stops pounding. And I can marvel at how wonderful my surrounds are again, with my family eating pizza and watching ‘The grand tour’, the cat purring, the fire blazing; all content after an afternoon with the best of friends, laughing and lounging.