Day 81: Anchor
The 100 Day Writing Project
Sometimes in life, you need something to tether you to the present-you need an anchor. There are experiences and phases in life which plunge you into anxiety, into depression, loneliness, and puts you and your mental health in danger of losing yourself completely in the abyss of tears and pain. In these moments, you need an anchor, a stray piece of wood-to keep you afloat-to keep you from drowning.
To everyone, their anchor is different-for some it may be a hobby, for some it may be work, family, friends, a holiday, a book, a movie, anything-an escape, a distraction-something to from drowning into the black abyss of an unstable and unsure head. It can be a person too. Someone with similar experiences, or someone on a similar page as you, at a similar point in life where they can fleetingly be your anchor without them knowing they are. The one who will see you as whole not knowing your scars, and treat you as you are, as they think you are-a whole person. Something or someone who will pull you out of the abyss-the first step, the first movement out of the darkness, your anchor will make you smile and see yourself in a different light. The hope you had been looking for. Your anchor will make you realise that ultimately it is going to be okay in the end.
Trauma is of different kinds-for some its physical, but mostly its mental-something which is not easily visible and lodges in deep in the human system before the realisation of its toxicity hits. The anchor cannot be pre-decided or pre-determined. If the awareness of an anchor is there, if it already exists, then probably the depression wouldn’t take root in the first place. It’s something which is discovered at the lowest elm of one’s being and which can be held onto for dear life. Which pulls you out of your self-pity inch by inch. More often than not, you won’t realise what your anchor was unless you’re out and about-you can only look back and see what brought you out of the darkness and made you feel a little more yourself each day. That’s exactly why I say an anchor cannot be prefixed.
The anchor might not be a permanent entity in your life. You may never pick up that guitar again, or visit that park again, but in your worst moment, what finally made you smile, what finally made you get out of your bed-whatever or whoever it may be, is your anchor, and even if it doesn’t exist in your life anymore, you must know at the back of your mind, that if the time comes, you will find another one to pull you to the shore.
