It is true that those of us who grew up in the ‘70s never worried about attacks with guns in school. Our desks back then provided perfect shelter for nuclear fallout, and we knew that those cracked eggs taught us to say “no” to drugs.
However, it is surprising that anyone growing up in the ‘70s ever left the house out of fear of falling into a quicksand pit in the backyard. Quicksand pits seemed to appear everywhere from Indiana Jones movies, Lost in Space, Batman episodes, and Gilligan’s Island.
Gilligan, the Skipper, and I have one thing in common: we have all had our bouts with quicksand.
The common beliefs about quicksand pits in the 1970s were:
1. Quicksand pits were common. Everyone needed to be prepared.
2. Quicksand pits were hidden or camouflaged, and you could not know you had entered one until it was too late.
3. The harder you struggled to get out, the deeper you sank (This reminds me of Brer Rabbit and the Tar Baby).
4. If you looked, a stick or person was always nearby to pull you out just about the time you went under.
Who knew that all these were true in my experience—even if I have never seen a literal quicksand pit?!
Belief #1: In life, there are many types of quicksand pits, of sloughs of despond, of places where the icky mud sucks at our boots and makes running impossible. FYI: John Bunyan in Pilgrim’s Progress wrote about the Sloughs of Despond. He was centuries ahead of Gilligan. We all need to realize that these pits are just as deadly as any literal quicksand pit.
Belief #2: These quicksand pits are often unexpected and hidden. Few of us prepare ahead of time to deal with our first bout with these sloughs of despond: long-lasting depression, anxiety attacks, panic attacks, or overwhelming grief. Life events spring up on us so quickly with an unexpected phone call, divorce, job losses, abuse, and disasters. (And P.S. Even if we get out of the sandpit one time, we often never plan for repeat swims in the sloughs when life gets to be too much, and yet it is so easy to find ourselves back in the pit with no fault of our own.)
Belief #3: The more we struggle, the deeper we sink. I have no idea if it is really true with quicksand, but it is in figurative sloughs of despond. The more we pray, berate ourselves for our lack of strength or faith or resilience, the more we shame ourselves for our failure to remove ourselves from the thick mud surrounding us, the worse it gets. The more we pretend to ignore its reality, the deeper we sink.
Belief #4: Look for the rescue branch. While it is true that often rescue branches and friends are nearby to pull us from the pit, unless we yell for help, friends have no idea to come help. Ironically, we would immediately ask for help if we were sinking in a literal pit, but asking for help in the midst of sinking in a figurative quicksand pit seems so hard, and we keep silent. Whether it is out of shame or fear that the rescue person will bring cliches, shame, quick advice, or judgment, we often sink deeper and deeper in the pit.
For those who have never stepped foot in a deep figurative sandpit, it is hard to understand those in the pit. Years ago, prior to my divorce and my subsequent dips in the pit of depression and anxiety, I naively told a woman struggling with serious depression that if she could just get out of bed and be around people that things would be better. I made it sound like this was no big deal. How horrified I am today because I know how naive—and dangerous—this statement was.
Years ago, I ran across a quote from Island by Aldous Huxley (the Brave New World author). It was one of those quotes that made me tear up instantly, soak it in, come back to it, come back to it again, and then come back to it again. I am still trying to soak in its meaning as it pertains to me. As someone who feels life deeply, as someone who feels joy so much that I feel like my heart will explode, and as someone who feels sadness deep enough to almost cloud the sun, and as someone who feels all those things for everyone around her, soaking it up and up and up, this quote spoke to me about how to get out of the pit:
“It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly, child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them. . . .
So throw away your baggage and go forward. There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet, trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair.
That’s why you must walk so lightly. Lightly, my darling, on tiptoes and no luggage, not even a sponge bag, completely unencumbered.”
If you feel the “quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet, trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair,” just realize you are not alone. Gilligan, the Skipper, and I, plus hundreds of thousands (or millions) of others, have all been there before.
Look for the branch. Look for the person who is there who can help you escape the quicksands sucking at your feet. If nothing else, I am here. Always.
