>Not that you need to know, but I need to tell.
It feels like you’ve been socked in that part of your body which hurts the most and you’ve fallen flat on your face, probably rendered unconscious by the blow. You gasp for breath and close your eyes to the world, just wallowing in the painful sensations and struggling to lose it.
It takes days, even weeks, to get over that sensation, to scramble back to your feet. You’re injured here and wounded there and still reeling from the shock of the attack. And when you stand, you still feel a little dizzy and wait for your breathing to fall back into a comfortable pattern that you’re used to. The view is still hazy as you try to take stock of the situation, get a clearer picture of things and through the blurry-eyed vision, try to regain your composure.
You clear your head and shake away the last vestiges of the blow. You begin to focus. The scrapes and scratches have healed and you decide to move on. Just then it strikes again – another blow – and you’re on your fours, fighting gravity before you fall flat again.
It happens in the middle of a ‘normal’ day, when everything seems fine but is not. It happens when you think you’ve recuperated from the last blow. It happens when you least expect it. It happens when you think you can carry on with life.
That’s what bad times feel like.