Sublittoral emotion

Life is strange.
I rushed down to the KZN South Coast yesterday in an emergency. Of the heart.
How do I even begin to encapsulate yesterday, last night and today in words?
I'm a swirl of deep current and dangerous emotion, not necessarily good. I'm being swept out to sea, but from a beach that I don't know well, maybe not at all.
I won't write that I'm floundering, I won't lie that I'm not uncomfortable and not way out of my depth.
I am disappointed. But I trust that I'm meant to be here right now, emotionally and geographically, although I have no clue why or what's next. And definitely not, again for emphasis, do I know why. Why?
I'm writing in code, because I know no other way to decode the current stream of my matrix without literally decoding it as I un-write it.
Back home, on my outside storm- and sun-battered couch, everything seemed so clear. And straight forward. And lonely.
I am alone. My world is an alone one. But it's changing. And I'm not sure how or why. Or where to.
So right now I'm surfing the sublittoral zone of my coastline on a razor blade. While the jaded and terribly aged Beach Boy's California Girls, playing very softly in the cool background of the coffee shop I've landed in, reminds me that all things shall pass, this too.
The passage of time, and the grappling with life's lessons, are themes that always flutter and then rot around my mind in deep autumn: I compel myself to live more deeply, more passionately, more intensely. Even at the serious risk of self-implosion.
So, right now, on which hook do I hang myself and this day? (Again, my prayer is for wisdom, understanding and - please God - guidance.)