titanic truths

on ditching the deck chairs for the drop from disaster

Standing with my heels over the edge of the Halifax Westin I was struck by a thought.

I’m eleven stories up and I don’t wanna move an inch.

Then?

I thought about that damn unsinkable boat - the Tin Tin Ick.

That sucker from the decks to the waters edge was eleven stories as well.

There were a lotta people who wouldn’t get in the life rafts because they were afraid of heights.

The whole ‘lower it down into the blue abyss bit was a bit much for them.

I get it.

The North Atlantic is frigid in April and the ship they were on was supposed to be unsinbkable.

Stupid fucks.

When I was a therapist, far too many people I worked with were in a similar place.

They’d hit an iceberg with a life that they thought was supposed to be unsinkable - they had compartmentalized the bullshit of their lives, but all five had filled up and the utter fuckery of being alive was spilling into the other watertight compartments.

And there they were, out there on the deck in the breeze.

The band kept playing and they felt safe…