I am stood in the mouth of a cave. The cave is behind me. The cave is always behind me. I am not always stood in the mouth of the cave. It is my cave. Sometimes I take a step backwards into the darkness.

The cave is a metaphor. In many regards it is a perfect metaphor. Or at least I have never come up with a better one.

Beyond the cave are the sunlit lands a place of life, of joy, of happiness. The sunlit lands are the place where all things are connected. The bright place. Stood in the mouth of the cave you can feel the warmth of the sun and to step forward, out of the cave, is to embrace the world. But to embrace the world, you must embrace it all, so you hesitate, or at least I hesitate. I always hesitate. So I stand in the mouth of the cave, feeling the warmth of the sun, but I have never quite stepped out into the brightness.

This is a metaphor I have used before. I used a version of it in a novel as a way to describe a traumatised mind. That was a simplified version of this metaphor, used for the purpose of narrative. But it was based on the complex metaphor I have used for many years to explain my mental and emotional states to myself. Not to others. I have never used it to explain myself to others, I have never expressed it directly. It is my metaphor, it was not acquired from others and I have never felt the need to share it, previously.

I am stood inside my cave. I have stepped back into the darkness, the brightness of the entrance is but a few feet away. I can see the brightness, and here, close to the entrance, there is enough light to see the walls around me. I know a few steps would take me out into the brightness again. But i feel safer here, hidden form the bright place, cocooned in the dark. Its cooler in the shade. I like the shade. I can still think, I still desire the brightness of the sun. I know how to get back to it. To do so just takes an act of will, if I can find the will. I’m still sure I can find the will. But for the moment I feel safer here, in the twilight just beyond the cave mouth.

This metaphor does a lot of heavy lifting. It helps me check myself, it helps me know how I am. In this regard it works for me. I have no idea if it works for anyone else. Or how anyone else might apply it. That I used it to describe and explain what was going on in the traumatised mind of a young woman who had gone through a truly horrific experience doesn’t mean that is why I apply it to myself. A novel is after all fiction, but all fiction draws upon reality. My cave is real for me, and a metaphor.

I am kneeling deep within my cave. The brightness of the entrance is little more than a glimmer. It is cold here, but I am numb. Numb to everything, an automaton, I move, I eat, I sleep, I exist, but all form within the darkness of the cave. Numb to everything, and choosing the numbness over feeling, for feeling hurts too much. I weep in the darkness of my cave and don’t know why I am weeping. I am weeping because this is the place where I weep. I am numb, withdrawn from the world, alone in the darkness. I can barely move, barely function. This is the place for existing without needing to exist. For being without needing to be. I am cold, I am numb, I am safe because safe is not being. I am not. and in being not, nothing matters. So why do I weep.

This is my metaphor. No one else’s. I did not read it in a book. No one told me it. It is mine. I have used it to explain myself to myself. I have used a version of it in a novel once. But I have never explained the metaphor to anyone. I have never told this truth, my truth, which is what this metaphor is.

I am kneeling deep within my cave. Behind me is only darkness. the walls are close, the roof is close, this is why I kneel. It is cold, I am numb, I am nothing. Behind me is only darkness. Ahead a glimmer of light so distant I can not recognise it for what It is. I do not weep here. I have retreated from the place of weeping. I feel nothing, I am nothing, this existence is nothing, and the darkness behind me is oblivion. Oblivion calls…

This is a metaphor. My metaphor. I have never chosen to share it in this way before. I am not sure I will share it now. If you are reading this then I chose to share it. Perhaps that is good, perhaps not. For the last few weeks, I have been in the place of weeping, or close to it. Last weekend I realised how far into the cave I had retreated. There was a local event I should have attended. A steampunk event, as it happens. I could have gone to it, if only just for an hour or so, wandered around the market , chatted to people I might know. But I couldn’t.

I could not make myself leave the house. I could not make myself go out into the world. I was tired, so I told myself. I’d had a hard week, I said. I just need to chill a little, i would go latter, I told myself. And sat, and wept for no reason. Numb to everything, cold and numb and weeping for no reason. Deep in the cave, knelling on the damp stone.

I realised then I have been deep in the cave for a while. Numb for a while. Kneeling in darkness staring towards a light so far away I have forgotten what it is for a while. And this is a metaphor, my metaphor.

This is not a cry for help, it is just me explaining a metaphor, not even explaining it to myself.

I think I am going to post this, despite myself, as this is also me taking a step forwards towards the entrance. I am fine before you ask, I have been deeper than this into my cave, and I shall do so again. I have also stood in the entrance and felt the sunlight on my face. That is where I hope to be, but the first step is to remember you need to take a step.