There’s a slurry pit. And woweee it stinks!

But y’know the way we get used to smells eventually…

You’re there, in the pit, with your family let’s say. You’re all in there together, up to your necks. You’ve tilted your head up and back to make sure you can breathe. It means you can’t see straight ahead but at least you can breathe. It’s getting tiring though, and your neck hurts. You can’t fully relax – if you do you might get lots of shit thrown at you. Worst case scenario you might drown. At the very least it might just get in your face and up your nose – ya, no, messy, not worth it.

So you stay still. You don’t make waves.

You call a therapist to help you deal with this pain in the neck all this shit has given you. It’s good, it helps you feel taller, you can breathe, you feel more steady. It gives you a lift – a couple of inches – a clearer view. It’s better than nothing! But it starts feeling temporary. Eventually, feeling taller isn’t enough. More shit piles in. Sometimes it rains and the level rises. They’re the hard days, it’s hard to see past the edge on those days.

Why is it getting even harder to deal with this?

Your therapist seems to be focussing on the shit more than the neck pain though and that’s a little irritating… Also they seem to believe there’s away out of this pit. But they’re waiting to see if you want to go. That’s also kinda annoying, why don’t they just carry you if they’re so sure? They point over at a structure. You can see it, more and more clearly it emerges. You never really noticed it before. It’s at the edge. Kinda slippery looking but yes, is it a ladder? You can just make out that there’s a shower past the edge – you could wash there once you get out. Fresh clothes too. It’s all looking a little tempting.

What to do, what to do…

Quandary. If you move and get out, then it’ll probably be cold. That’s the thing with shit. It can be warm. It blocks the wind and it covers you in a complete layer. Almost cosy. Almost comfy. Getting out might be less comfy, a lot less even. And what if there aren’t fresh clothes and what if the shower isn’t working? And what if no-one else is out there – like, at least there are other people in the shit with you here…

What to do, what to do…

You decide maybe it’s worth it. You make a move. It’s hard, you haven’t moved like this before and it feels weird, even though you know you’re heading in the right direction. The ladder comes into clear view. Doesn’t look like an easy climb but equally, it doesn’t look as steep as you thought from a distance.

But…

You quickly notice a problem. You’ve made waves by moving. Little ones at first, then, as you get stronger and moving better, the waves get bigger. Dammit. Your family isn’t pleased. They don’t say it in words, but you can tell. You always could tell. Your movements mean they’re getting more shit on them and they were not expecting this change. They’re used to you taking a certain amount of it.

They’re cross. They start to panic now and they’re not as comfy as they were when you were in there with them. They could get out too but they don’t want to. It’s their pit and they like it. They made it after all. From a pit that they inherited. You helped, unknowingly. Been in the family for generations. They whoooosh the waves back at you. There’s a current now and you feel drawn back. Now everyone’s messy and the shit is moving in a big way. Slop slop sloshhhh… It smells worse now because old shit is being stirred up. No one is happy about this, they stayed still to keep it down low, unseen, but now it’s back – and that’s your fault they say. What if other people see our shit now that you’ve stirred it all up, they say… you are to blame for all of this they say…

Even though it’s not your fault. The shit’s been there for years. You didn’t put it there. You can see that now.

So much of it is splashing about now it feels like if you don’t back-track you might drown . But if you back-track, you will surely drown too. You feel stuck. Both choices feel bad.

What to do… what to do…

You look up and notice that there are more people at the edge now. They saw you moving to get out and were so pleased they came to welcome you. They seem to have towels and soap with them. You saw these people before but they left you in the shit. You were angry about that, remember? Weren’t they angry too?

Or was it that they couldn’t lift you out because you didn’t allow them? You kept going back in because you didn’t know and you were terrified. Maybe that was what happened… They were scary times alright. Maybe they were sad, not angry. Disappointed for you, not in you. They sure don’t look cross now…

Hmmm…

You reach out a hand and one of them reach towards you. They don’t seem to mind that your hand is covered in shit. Wow. You realise they know how to clean it off themselves. Does that mean you can too?

What to do… what to do…

You decide to climb to the top of the ladder. Your family is really pissed off now. You leaving means there’s more shit for everyone else to deal with. They’ll have to find a way to adjust, or to get out themselves. You see now that the ladder is staying put, it’s solid – they can use it too if they want. You’ve just shown them how! And wait – is that another ladder in the other corner?? Crikey – how many ladders are there?!

You get out, and it’s weird. And it seems cold at first. And your legs wobble because they’re not used to standing completely on their own like this. But you notice that the air isn’t cold, it’s just clean. It smells good. And you can rest your legs between steps. No-one’s asking you to run. You have a choice.

You step into the shower and see your own skin and, for the first time, you see how beautiful it is.

• Inspired by something my own therapist said to me by way of analogy some years ago – he in turn inspired, if memory serves, by Anthony De Mello, author of the wonderful Awareness.