It was a cold and dark and eerie night that January. The mirth of Christmas now just a distant memory as the wind began howling and the sparkling of a million galaxies lit up the way for the weary walkers that were getting their last few steps in before settling in for the night. It was around 8:30 I believe. The tugs were tied up until morning and the fishermen had loaded the last of their pots onto the pier for safekeeping. Tomorrow would bring another chance for them to earn their living.
I shivered in the coldāthe car heater barely warmed up because of the short distance I had travelled. Warm salty water ran down my face, in direct contrast with the cold grey sea water that stretched out ahead of me.
I had been down here many times before. Down to check out the latest cruise liner that was visiting. Down to walk around the 2-mile loop for exercise, which, back then, was a joyous and painless activity that the years, and life, was slowly robbing from me. I used to go down to contemplate the last dying embers of the winter sun, resplendent in its watery silver mass, like mackerel jumping on a late August evening. This time however, it was different.
It was my fading sun that was dying. It was my hope that was beginning to sink beneath the cold dark waves that seemed to call to meācome forward sister. Let me wrap you in my strong, cold, watery arms, let me take your pain and suffering and make it my own. I promise you, he whispered, slyly, these cold arms will protect you forever more. No more will you feel the blackness, the loneliness, the desperation, the isolation. I can take that pain from you now and let your spirit fly high, freeāfree, free at last.
Iām not sure how I heard about WRAP for the first time. It came up as part of my training in National Learning Network, but it is only in recent times that I actually considered how it may help me. Help me to negotiate these awful dark waves that were still trying desperately to steal my soul. Scraping, pulling, dragging, like the twisted gnarly fingers of the forgotten ghosts of happiness and safety.
The idea (WRAP) seemed simple enough, practical even. Design a Wellness Toolbox you can dip in and out of as the need arises. What have I got to lose, I whispered to myself. Everything else had been tried, the remnants of which are now lined up like the dead soldiers in the spoils of war!
Intrepidly I took the first stepsāsigned up to the program, engaged, listened, learned, all the while allowing the core elements of WRAP to lift me gently up to a place of brighter lights and bluer seas. Of course this didnāt magically happen on its own or overnight, but with a deep commitment and a genuine wish to begin my road to recovery, I took those all important tentative first steps. WRAP somehow almost felt like an invisible friendāwalking beside me, holding my hand, constantly reminding me that HOPE is here. In fact, HOPE lives in all of us, but sometimes it lies hidden deeply within the folds and fissures of our broken souls.
My journey to wellness is ongoing, a work in progress if you like. But with WRAP in my corner, watching my back, I now have the confidence to believe in tomorrow and of all the possibilities that lie within.
