Sand Castles

This post is inspired by anonymous' comment from the last post.  I got thinking about being buried up to my neck in grief.  It made me think of the beach when people dig a big hole and bury others up to their necks and I was struck by the analogy.  (Ok, so while my sister and I are very different in a lot of way, we are the same in that we both like a good analogy).

Depression really can be compared to the process.  At first you start digging the hole and slowly it gets bigger and bigger.  At some point (the tipping point when depression starts to really affect your behaviour) you let other people help you dig the hole.  Pretty soon it is person-sized.  You then trip and fall and end up in the hole yourself, although you always thought it was for someone else.  You couldn't possibly be the person who is going to be buried.  Then the people that helped you dig the hole start to bury you with sand.  And you let them.  You just stand in the hole and let them pile the sand it because you don't have the energy to fight it and really you just think that it's only a joke and they'll stop soon.  The people come and go, but they keep piling the sand on top of you.

Next thing you know you are buried up to your waist and you aren't really sure you could get out.  The people continue and soon you are buried up to your neck.  And you start to wonder, how did you get here?  Why did you let them bury you in sand?  Why didn't you fight it, or try to climb out of the hole?  And now you are stuck.  You can't even get an arm out to try to help yourself.

The people then run away, but not before taunting you for awhile and making you feel like maybe you deserve to be buried and stuck.  In fact some of them even tell you that flat out.

Soon you are alone, utterly and completly.  You have no ability or energy to think of how to get out of the hole, how to become unstuck.  So you start to panic and then the anxiety sets in and makes it even harder to think or come up with a solution to the problem.  Then, really far away you see someone and somewhere out of the fog of your brain, you think, maybe they can help me.  So you call out for help.

The person walks over and you manage to ask for help, but not before you are extremely apologetic for bothering them and making them go out of their way.  They start to dig.  It's a slow and labourious process, but eventually they free one of your arms.  They also see other people around and ask them to help.  You still wonder if you deserve to be in the hole and can't ask for help yourself, but are glad the person will do it for you. 

Slowly, slowly the people dig the sand out, and you are able to help with the one arm, and then eventually with the other as well.  At some point you realize that the sand that is on top of you is pretty loose and you can move around.  The people around you pull you out of the hole.  But you are weak and scared still and need to lean on them for a long long time. 
At some point you are able to see it for what it really is.  The people who buried you were terrible, but you let them do it.  Some of those people are also the same ones that helped you out.  Like everyone, they didn't know that their actions were helping to bury you, but they want to help you more than anything.  You know that you will need to lean on people for a long time, maybe forever. 

But in the end you are able to use some of the sand to build yourself a beautiful sand castle (this analogies version of when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.  When life buries you with sand, make a beautiful sand castle).  You also know that between being in the hole and finding ways to get out, you are stronger and hope that you will recognize it the next time when you fall into the hole, before the hole starts to fill with sand.