Some days are dark.
Some days I forget myself, and I stumble. I wake from nightmares sweat-soaked, shaking, crying. Some days I am blind with melancholy. I see only in murky visions of memories I cannot bleach from my mind. I wake up in a different time and a place, small and terrified. I was forced to keep secrets so big I felt I would burst with them and I was alone, so horrifyingly alone in all the world. Just a baby, living in a nightmare from which there was no escape. I learned to cry silently and to scream internally. I had to turn away from myself, to fly far from myself, and I had no-one else.
I had to hide those secrets in my body, because that was the only way, and so it was that my body became my enemy. It was not me. It was not safe. It was not home. Its needs mattered not. I hid those dark secrets in my body, and I flew far and wide in my head, ever resentful of having to drag that thing around with me. That thing, my body- it had betrayed me, and I wished I could dissolve it. I wished I could inhabit some other body, some other life; or simply cease to be, so that I could float into nothingness where there are no secrets.
The world, too, was my enemy. I had learned to trust no-one, because even the ones who love you will destroy you. I scanned every face, every voice, every gesture for threats. I became hypervigilant. I could not sit with my back to the room. I could not relax my shoulders, let my guard down, even for a second. I could not let go and enjoy and be free like the others. I could not be myself. The fight had been trained out of me, resistance was futile, and so I froze instead in the face of danger- real or perceived. A baby deer in headlights. I never learned to fight, I never found my healthy righteousness. My self esteem died, before it was even born. I was scared to exist, scared to imprint myself on life in any way. I avoided everything, long and hard; relentlessly. I lost myself in books because in books were possibilities of other lives, in books were people who could never hurt me.
I wanted to be loved, and yet I could not let anyone love me because love was pain to me, was betrayal, was loneliness. I was a thing not to be cherished but used, an object unworthy of my own affection, let alone that of anyone else. In my mind, I came here simply to be taken advantage of. To be enjoyed for a time, then tossed away with the other rubbish.
Some days are dark, and I start to turn from myself. I start to fly away, but these days I remember. I remember myself. I know why I came here- to learn to shine. To take that darkness I was filled with, and spin it into golden light. To build a home within- a sanctuary. A place where I am worthy, I am love and I am loved. I came here to learn to cherish myself, to fight for myself. To fight for others like me, and to show them the way with my words. Show them the way home.
Some days are dark, and I start to turn away, but these days I turn back. I light a candle inside. I feel the warmth of that glow spread through me, and I am in my wholeness, my love. I bathe in my emotions and they do not drown me as I once feared, but cleanse me. The warm water relaxes my shoulders. I drop my guard. I wrap my arms around myself and I am my own comfort. I let go, and I know I am finally free. I know that in the dark days to come, I will be there for myself. I will speak my truth. I will never again fill myself with secrets, and truth will spill out into the world in my words, and light, and it will help those who need it to heal themselves, too.
Some days are dark, but I am filled with light, and now I am unafraid, and complete, and I am beautiful.