Our lives are supposed to have a purpose. Or so the experts tell us. I’ve been looking for my purpose for most of my life and I haven’t found it yet.
I’m sailing through life with no clear direction waiting to find my purpose, my passion, my mission. Dealing with depression and anxiety, my goal most days is to get through the day being somewhat productive. Some days I succeed and some days I fail miserably.
If life is like the sea than I’ve had my share of storms. Waves so high I thought I would be swept away forever. Long periods of time where every day was another storm to be endured. Days that turned into weeks and weeks into months of relentless storms. Weak and battered all I wanted to do was lay down and die. I had no strength left to fight.
But I wasn’t alone in my battle. My children lived in the shadow of my pain, fearful of what would happen to them if I left them. Changing them for the rest of their days. I clung to my life raft with an intensity only a mother understands. Cold, wet and beaten down I hung on screaming into the darkness.
When the storm was over I was thankful to be alive. The sea calmed and the skies brightened. I was going to make it.
Maybe, my purpose is simply to survive and carry on. Living a simple life. Staying alive to show my children that no matter how messy life gets we can get through anything.