When I was five I would stand outside in our back yard, with my eyes clenched shut, my arms spread out wide as though I had unfurled my wings to fly, and I would throw my head back and spin. I'd chase my invisible tail as I felt the wind wrap around my skinny little arms and watch the colours of the rainbow play behind my eyelids.

When I could no longer stand straight up as I spun I'd flop down onto the lawn and open my eyes to watch the world spin wildly while taking me with it. 

There was freedom in the spinning.

I stopped spinning like a mad little top after I tripped on my feet and crashed face first into a rock. The sharp edge of nature stabbed into my hairline by my temple and the sensation of blood oozing combined with the spinning skies caused my stomach to rumble in an altogether unpleasant way.

Spinning was no longer free. It now had a price.

I've not spun much since that moment. A few carnival rides here and some cartwheels there, both of which have had similar effects. But I've not enjoyed that same sense of wild abandon since I met the sharp end of that lone rock. I stopped chasing the spin only to find the spin has started to chase me.

My life has been whirling around in topsy-turvy jumble of sorts, as of late. But instead of those feelings of joyful freedom and glee, this spinning has ignited a storm of anxiety and sadness. I can't seem to stop the world tumbling around me no matter how wide I open my eyes. I can't find an anchor.

I did everything I knew to make life slow down. I read the books, I did the exercises. I breathed

Nothing worked and still the spinning continued.

I walked away from writing. From blogging. I isolated myself physically, distanced myself emotionally from many that I love. My fingertips are bloodied from all the things I've grasped at to make this spinning stop.

Life doesn't have an emergency stop button when you are feeling overwhelmed. Depression creeps in no matter how loudly you yell at it to go away. 

The world just keeps spinning.

Maybe the key to all of this is not to try and stop the spin but to remember that wild abandon I once felt when I was five and try to get back to that. 

Maybe the key is to try and feel the wind wrap around my arms like I did as a little girl and hope the wind doesn't blow so hard I can't catch my breath.

Maybe the key is just to spin and pray you don't land on any sharp objects when you fall.