Storm of a different kind

I feel like I have just braved a storm that shook me through, tattered my ship and sails, splintered my mast. Now, still rolling in the waves of the high sea, I must begin to rebuild, repair what I can and abandon what cannot be saved.

It was a rough week. It began with hope, hope brought about by a new job. Midday Monday the clouds began to blacken and the rains came. The morning started with the what-ifs that have been plaguing us so lately. What if you don't get a job? What if you get into a school that I don't? And transformed into the whys that we have been ignoring. Why are you unhappy? Why don't you ever talk to me? Why do I feel like this? The storm exploded as we tried to answer or avoid the answer to these questions. The accusations flew like debris being ripped from the once sturdy body of our vessel. You don't love me. You want to leave. You're giving up. You are too much to handle. You ask too much.

Tuesday, as the holes in our ship allowed water to pour in and we began to go under, I frantically sent out SOS messages to those I thought may be able to help. I struggled to stay afloat. I clung to the weather-battered ship, determined not to go down without a fight, but quickly losing hope. Wednesday, a pale moon emerged from behind the clouds. We began to make concessions, to be honest, to compromise and communicate. Thursday, exhausted and numb we went to work repairing what could be repaired and finding a way to survive despite the damage.

By Friday I sailed forth with a new, timid hope, but hope nevertheless. And I feel I will--we will--be okay.