Losing and finding your passion

This may resonate with some. Others will think I am barking mad. #itsoknottobeok 

14 months ago I closed my long-standing business as a tradesman. For the people around me, it seemed like I had lost my mind. I knew it was the right thing to do. I am ok now, but this is the best way I can explain the journey from my point of view.

It had become an anchor which I was desperately clinging to as it was my only anchor but it was dragging me to the bottom of the sea. I was drowning in more ways than one.

So I let go. It was the right thing to do. I had to. It was let go or drown.

I survived and resurfaced.

My head was above but water only just.

I paddled as hard as I can to stay afloat but ended up going around in circles. Fixated on the centre of the whirlpool, the darkness looming. No way of looking out on the horizon. But I could breathe. I was alone but I had more time.

Fight on! Must fight on!

January I was thrown a rope just when I needed it the most by people I’ll always consider friends. I held on to that rope. The whirlpool spinning me around, I had no sense of direction or where to go, but I was safe from being sucked further in.

Since then I’ve been frantically trying to haul myself out of the water.
14 months, fighting, floating, drifting. I’m tired, exhausted…

But I can’t quit, can’t let go of the rope. Need to swim harder. Call up all the strength within me to drag my ass out of the water for good. Just when I’m at my weakest another rope appears at my side, then another and another!

I’m not out the water yet. I’m so tired but I’ve got more ropes than ever held by solid friends. I’ve lost all the extra weight dragging me back down. It won’t be long now. I’m more buoyant than ever! You’ve got this Rich! Kick like crazy! Time to get out and fly!

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