Each morning she wakes up with the sunrise as it touches her with warm
rays of golden thread filtering through the white linen curtains.
This makes her soul feel alive and
inspired but today something is different.
The sun is shining as it normally
does, awakening her gently with its caress.
Today when she wakes up, she doesn’t
feel alive or inspired; this feeling has been getting less intense.
Her inner fire and passion seem to
be compromised.
And today, today she feels like
there is a black hole where her heart once was.
How did this happen?
It’s so very confusing.
Where has her passion for life gone
without her?
She doesn’t want to be left behind.
An empty shell of pain and
confusion, alone in the world, as if everything she once knew is slowly
slipping away, farther and farther into the distance.
Feeling scared and alone, she
retreats into herself.
Shutting down all emotions, other
than those necessary for defense and survival — anger, frustration, and
aggression.
It’s time to guard her heart with
whatever little of herself she has left.
As she moves through her daily
activities, her interactions are becoming more strained, more painful, less
enjoyable and harder to navigate.
There is a huge barrier in her life
that she can’t yet see.
Her struggles must first grow until
she cracks, breaking into pieces and attempting to rebuild many times.
So many, in fact, that she feels cornered by ugly choices.
So many, in fact, that she feels cornered by ugly choices.
There are no more comfortable
choices left to pick from.
She’s
broken, alone, exhausted, lying at the bottom of a deep, dark pit... her
life.
Lying in pieces, motionless, she has
nothing left but the ability to reflect on the deep, dark, void that was once
her life.
She is nothing, she has nothing.
She is reduced to nothing more than
shards of broken glass that can never return to what they once were.
Questions run through her mind
constantly, if only she could quiet the voices of fear, invalidation, and
sabotage… there are so many voices.
Hers, his, theirs, why won’t they
stop?
How did
this happen?
Why me?
Why does
this hurt so much?
I’m so
scared.
I’m weak,
hopeless with nowhere to turn.
Feeling more alone than ever before,
as if she has been sent into solitary confinement and the world around her
has died.
Abandoning her to remain with only
her thoughts.
Painful, judging, accusing, blaming, hurtful thoughts looking for validation.
Painful, judging, accusing, blaming, hurtful thoughts looking for validation.
Feeling cornered, she has but one
remaining skill… her breath.
Inhale, exhale, pause.
Inhale, exhale, pause.
Inhale, exhale, pause.
Inhale, exhale, pause.
Inhale, exhale, pause.
It’s all she has.
She continues to inhale, exhale and
pause, until enough strength returns that she can begin to move her limbs.
Slowly, gently, she has to relearn
how to move.
She has been broken for so long.
Attempting to move one limb at a
time, inhale, exhale, pause.
She
stumbles and falls.
Breathe
and try again, she manages to take just one step before falling again.
She needs
rest.
Stillness settles into her aching
body.
Breath is returning to normal.
But the pain remains, the emptiness
as vast as eternity, and the gaping hole in her chest feels raw.
A twinge so small, its barely
palpable flutters in her soul… could it be?!
One golden thread of strength
remains deep down in her being.
The thread is buried so deeply, and
is so fine, that it can only be felt when all else is still and silent.
She breathes, motionless.
She closes her eyes.
Was it just her imagination or
is there hope?
Silence, stillness, and breathe
reveal the answer.
Yes!
She feels it again.
But how do to gain access and use
this fine thread?
It appears so fragile it could break
at the slightest pressure.
More breath, it’s still her only
tool.
Connecting with the essence of this
seemingly fragile glimmer of hope through breath and gentle movements develops
this subtle strength.
Each day she takes time to turn off
the pain of the outside world, the void, the judgment to spend time alone with
this golden thread; it needs love.
She has very little to give, but
she’s willing to try, for things actually get any worse.
The thread is becoming thicker and
stronger each day.
As it does, her love grows.
Love for herself.
The pain is still there although the
deep aching seems to be subsiding ever so slightly.
Her heart is heavy but the burden is
lifting and the black hole shrinks bit by bit.
As the darkness settles, rays of
light begin to creep in, for the golden thread is attracting it.
Reflecting it onto herself… the dark
surfaces of her being.
There is hope for her after all.
She might just survive this.
Her golden thread has become a rope
strong enough for climbing.
She’s ready to try; she wants to
face her demons and those of others who helped to put her here.
Her strength is returning and her
love is growing exponentially.
Not entirely sure of who she is yet
or who she is becoming, she trusts.
More than ever before, she trusts,
in herself and in the goodness of humanity.
Ironically, feeling the deep
unsettling of emotional abandonment, the white hot irons of verbal suppression
and the demons of betrayal have opened her eyes to all that is good in the
world.
It
doesn’t have to be this way.
I don’t
have to live like this.
But she
knows it will be a fight to get out.
A battle
so epic it will go down in the history of her soul like an apocalypse.
Anchoring her golden rope of faith
and strength, she begins her climb.
It’s intimidating; she is now
completely alone with only herself to rely on.
In this, she trusts that all will be
well because she is enough.
Slowly, steadily climbing.
Dodging obstacles of fear,
maneuvering over boulders of judgment and questioning, she stays the course,
unwavering in her faith in herself.
With each minute step of success,
she can feel her soul lighting up, her passion returning slowly, although it
feels different… no longer rebellious in nature, but far more settled, like a
compass guiding her methodically forward.
She has no idea how far she has to
go to make it out of the pit that has become her life, all she knows is she
must keep moving.
Resting, breathing and heeding the
guidance of her soul’s compass.
There will be a day of victory.
She will conquer this void and she
will once again own her identity, never to compromise it again.
With that trust she continues
onward, bleeding from the remaining shards of glass that have penetrated her
being.
They are
but surface wounds that will heal in time and hold no comparison to the depth
of her inner struggles.
She
prepares herself, sensing that the battle is near.
The sun is shining, as it normally
does, awakening her gently with its caress.
Today when she wakes up, she doesn’t
feel alive or inspired; this feeling has been getting more intense.
She doesn’t feel inspired; she feels
new, strong, and ready.
There’s no way of knowing what life
has in store for her, but she is brave, courageous and able.
Strong enough for the largest of
battles, she stands tall, puts on her shield and emerges into the day with the
understanding that she is alone.
Finding nothing waiting for her, she
is confused.
Where is the battlefield, the
soldiers, the demons, the fight?
She sits down, slightly disappointed
that she didn’t have the opportunity to put her new-found strength to use, and
she breathes. Inhale, exhale, pause.
A new
voice creeps in, one she is unfamiliar with: “Look back, the battle has been
won and you are free.”
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