It was the waves that called me and they did not disappoint. How could they? Much to my surprise, it was the heaving of the deep that really spoke to me.
The rolling weight pushing the water, high tide or low, was the powerful driver of the waves on top. Between the curling and crashing, the smooth skin of the ocean covered the push and pull of the moon without breaking.
Depression and anxiety roil and wash over me, but in the deep I feel the need to reimagine myself as a person who happens to be chronically ill rather than a patient struggling to return to “normal.” There it is. There’s no going back. This is my new normal.
Uncertain why, I’d imagined that the waves would be healing. Instead, I enjoyed our week at the Oregon coast much the same way I appreciate the view of the forest from bed, through sliding glass doors. Grateful for the wonders of the ocean, I have a new appreciation of the deep. I’m still mesmerized by the waves, even if they are just the frothing on top.