I've been thinking about my life as mazelike today. Mazes are a lot easier to solve from the outside than from within. (I've been thinking about lives as "solvable" because I've been binge-watching Elementary.)
I'm thinking about what it feels like to walk through a maze. How often moving 'forward' means walking into a dead-end. How deeply one can become entangled in totally fruitless paths.
And I've been thinking about the strategy for reliably solving a maze: put your left hand on the wall, and never let go.
You cover more territory than you need to that way, but there's a fair chance you cover less than you would have if you just kept guessing. You'll never walk up and down the same wrong path twice.
I think this is what "coping" is. That's what it feels like to me right now, anyway. I'm living through a crisis of indeterminate length, and there's nothing about any turn that gives me intrinsic hope. Emotionally, I feel lost. But intellectually, I know if I keep my hand to the wall, and keep moving forward, I get out at the end of it all.
I've been thinking about looking back, too. About how mazes are supposed to make sense from the outside, but I can't see out of this one. I can't get an overhead view of the mazes I've been in before. There's never, ever going to be a shift in dimensionality that places me as an overhead viewer to the landscape of my own life.
I'm really not okay right now, but I'm keeping my hand to the wall, and I'm keeping moving.