How is it even possible to describe something so mystical, so transcendental as the realisation that you are feeling rage for the first time?

There it is, a white heat. Not like the dull red ache of shame. It is a white heat, and it purifies. You never let yourself get too close to it before. You were scared of that heat. But now you know. There is nothing to fear. That rage is yours, it belongs to you and you own it, and you control it.

And it deserves to be, because you do.

And you’ll just keep waking up over and over. And every time you wake up to a reality more beautiful than the last, and you cry because you don’t quite trust that it can be this beautiful yet. Not for you. But it can. It is.

Tell that child it is okay to be angry. It is okay to be anything. It really is.

And you’ll reach so deep into the core of yourself and you’ll try so hard to let everything just be beautiful, but you feel it there. That conviction, that belief that something will go wrong, something has to. It can’t really be that. There has to be a catch.

There are beliefs so wrapped around us, so entangled within us that it will take a long time to cleanse enough of them from our psyche to feel even somewhat relieved. And that is okay. It all is. It is fine to look at the mountain you have to climb and decide to take another rest day before you tackle it. It is fine to get stuck into the mountain and fail, and return another day.

It is okay if you can only let things be beautiful for a while, before you have to return to your old thought patterns. Eventually you will become more and more comfortable being in that almost-unbearable frequency. You will begin to trust.

You will begin to live, with an intensity you did not know was possible.

And one day, you will stand fierce and proud atop that mountain, and you will let go of the belief that something will go wrong.

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art of trauma
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