Standing On The Edge

I grabbed hold of the cold, grey metal railing. Staring out over the vast ocean. I could feel the salt spray against my face, cold and damp, as the waves crashed up against the pilings. The faint smell of seafood filled the air that was swirling around the pier. There I was, being supported by nothing more than a few pieces of wood and steel. I just was there, quiet, still, and gazing out into the wide open space. The grey skies barely had a division between the cold blue of the ocean. No sun, just the grey overcast sky stretching out into the horizon. No waves, just the gentle rocking back and forth of the sway of the ocean. No birds in the sky. Just me, the wind, and the pier.

In that moment, I felt so small, so miniscule, so insignificant in the grand scale of the world. Standing out on the edge of the pier, there was nothing in front of me but the great beyond. With every passing wind, I could feel my skin becoming more clammy, and the salt air filled my lungs with every breath. The wind was relentless, nothing in its way by my presence. My eyes were squinted shut from the grey haze and breezes blowing around.

Then the background dissolved into a faint light. The sun was piercing into my window, and just like that I am awake. I don’t know what this dream means, nor do I know why I have had it, the same way for the past month. I can not explain that part. I do know that when my depression hits low points, I have this dream. I can see it when I wake up. That is a big thing, because I do not remember dreams often. Very few of my dreams do I remember vividly, and seldom do they repeat themselves.

I have looked over many studies out there, various posts, and other things… and I have come to the conclusion, no one knows why dreams are the way they are, or really any connection to mental disorders and dreams. It surprises me, but it doesn’t to a point. As advanced as we are as a people, we still can not figure out the inner workings of the mind. Mine not being considered “normal”, I can only imagine how difficult it would be to get to the root of things. I am trying, but yesterday was a setback for me.

I don’t know why it comes on. I have tried to narrow down stress points, conversations, dreams, food, and countless other combinations of why. I can not figure it out. Again, for those who know me, I am a fixer. I try to fix things, make other people feel better, make problems kind of go away. That is why this forsaken disorder pisses me off so much, because I can not just fix it. My asthma, I know how to control it, fix the symptoms. My knee, it was reconstructed last year, and is almost back to the way it was before, but I had it fixed. My weight, I am down almost 11 lbs. in a month, so I know I can control it. My depression and anxiety… still alive and kicking. I know I have support with it, but sometimes the words of others rings hollow to me. Hate to say that, but it is true. I still feel like I am standing on the edge of the pier, all by myself. I still feel like in some ways not being here would be better. My motivation to keep going lives in this house with me. My determination is to beat this damn disease.

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