This Time in Four Years

This Time in Four Years

This time in four years,

Gold on my chest hairs

Training and training,

Running and running,

Tactics, nutrition,

Psychology, competition,

The arena erupts,

Flash bulbs galore,

On your marks,

.......BANG!

Eyes forward,

Run, run, run,

Baton in hand,

Sweat drips down,

Hand on the horizon,

Opening to receive,

Oh no,

Oh no,

I dropped it,

What's happened?

Four years,

Gone in a moment,

The eyes of a nation,

I've let down,

The gold,

It must be mine,

Training must start,

I can't do it all,

But, I will,

This time in four years....

Explanation

This is a bit of a depressing one....well maybe it isn't actually. It'll depend how you take it. I think just as much as it might be depressing, it could equally be seen as strength through determination. With the Olympics   on the mind this summer (by summer I mean 6 months where it's rained a lot), this poem uses the analogy of an athlete who has trained and trained for the past four years, determined to win a gold, but during the final of the relay, he drops the baton. The analogy represents the battles with mental health that many experience, each time that they have a bad spell.

This time in four years,

Gold on my chest hairs

Often people who have had to climb back up again will have told themselves and those to close to them that they'll be much better and well by [insert time period of choice]

Training and training,

Running and running,

There is often a lot of practicing and training involved. Whether that be going to see the Dr, taking medication, seeing a psychologist, all sorts.

Tactics, nutrition,

Psychology, competition,

A continuation of the above

The arena erupts,

Flash bulbs galore,

You've made it to an acceptable place. Perhaps not exactly where you want to be, but you're considered to be "well" - whatever that means. Certainly you're having many more moments of joy and surreal, fun experiences.

On your marks,

.......BANG!

You're still doing well. Plenty of things you want to be doing with your life. More smiles than frowns.

Eyes forward,

Run, run, run,

You know what you're doing....well pretty much.

Baton in hand,

Sweat drips down,

Yes, it is very hard, but it's being done and you're floating, sometimes even swimming.

Hand on the horizon,

Opening to receive,

You're starting to think that you're finally moving on. The demons are being well and truly exorcised.

Oh no,

Oh no,

But no....yet again, it's all going horribly wrong. You're sinking, you know what's coming and you know how scary that is, yet even once you've sunk, it somehow manages to be more scary than you remember, and it's not as if you remember it fondly.

I dropped it,

What's happened?

There's often a degree of "dumbfoundment" about what's happened. The one thing that you do know, however much you wish you were wrong is that it's all falling to pieces and your quality of life has become very poor.

Four years,

Gone in a moment,

All the effort you've had to put in....it feels a waste. Perhaps even wondering whether you should've just called it quits and given up the time before. The speed with which it's all happened is staggering. How can you have gone from the premier league, to the little league in such a short space of time?

The eyes of a nation,

I've let down,

You look at yourself, your loved ones look at you. "Did I miss the warning signs? Did I make a mistake? Did I take on too much? I'm so much of a failure. I've let myself and everyone down. I am such a waste of human life." These are all the thoughts running around with great speed and strength around your head. You feel as if they have become you.

The gold,

It must be mine,

You yearn for what shoulda, coulda, woulda. There's a determination to get well, coupled with a feeling that it's all over. Delusions about your identity are rife. There is also a degree of denial too, especially when one begins to compare ourselves to those who we believe have it all, and think that's the gold standard which we either have or it's all horrible, forgetting that there may be a way to make silver feel like gold through accepting limitations of the mind but finding a way to life in harmony with oneself.

Training must start,

I can't do it all,

Once again, the uphill struggle begins - because it's kind of the only option. I mean, you could kill yourself I suppose, maybe you'll even get to the point where it's what's going to happen - yet it just doesn't. That (in the moment) blasted survival instinct makes you suffer for what? You feel as if you can no longer do it any more. Your resolve has gone, you want out.

But, I will,

Yet, some more time clears and there you are once again, you're training, doing more of the stuff you should be doing, aiming for gold. Hopefully each time increasing the chances of the outcome being a positive one, but never knowing, and kind of always living in fear.

This time in four years....

I guess time will tell.