The Hole

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A friend sent me these pictures when I was at the lowest point in my pregnancy. Although I’d always been open with my counsellor about my feelings I’d got to the point where I was really struggling to articulate what I felt; I just couldn’t find the words.

I needed help so desperately, I didn’t think I deserved it but I wanted it anyway.

I wanted to live.

I wanted to carry on.

I believed life would get better, that I would feel better, that I would love this baby.

I believed because I had to.

Because if I didn’t then what was keeping me going.

So I adapted the wording from the pictures.

I am sitting at the bottom of a mine shaft.

It dark and damp and cold.

I look up but I can’t see any light; no daylight and no torch light.

I have nothing with me; no phone, no torch, no rope, no hard hat.

No one with me.

I sit and look up, trying to see the smallest speck of light. I strain my eyes, so much that my head hurts but I still can’t see anything.

I am trapped in the dark. 

I can’t feel anything except the ground I’m sitting on. I stretch out my arms but I can’t feel any walls. I can’t move in any direction, frightened that I’ll become even more trapped and lost than I am already.

I know no one is coming to rescue me, no one knows where I am or how to reach me.

The only person who can save me…is me.

I don’t need much.

I just need to be able to see a bit further, something to penetrate the dark just a little.

Maybe just a candle.

One candle would give me enough light just to get an idea of where I am. If I can see where I am, even for a few minutes then maybe I can work out how to get out.

Maybe I can find my way back.

Not to when I was completely well, I’m not asking that much.

 

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