After personal tragedy arrives the realization that nothing, nothing, nothing is ever going to be the same again. There’s a period of enforced reflection. A time to consider how on earth can I cope with the devastating effects of what happened? How could life possibly become liveable again?
It’s a time of great emptiness. The way forward is blocked, blurry and bleak. I am entering the empty space.
It’s an infinitely uncomfortable space where the greatest needs are shelter and solace. And to find answers to questions left unasked.
It’s like I am standing stripped under the intense midday sun. The baked landscape fills with shimmering mirages. My head slowly cooks. Constructive thought is replaced by desperate yearning for cool water and shade.
My future beckons from across the empty space – it is comforting, filled with soft Mediterranean colours and dancing shades that attract me. But to venture out is to suffer intense searing heat that burns the soles of my feet and shrivels my soul.
The empty space is filled with anxiety and pain … but, to move on and reach the other side, it must be entered.
I am entering the empty space … I am moving on.