I’ve been rubbing salt on my wounds; edging myself on caustic pain, riding one agonizing emotional wave after the next, allowing myself to slowly burn; an intense climactic ascension into a collective pool of feeling the entirety of the last 51 years of my life. Groping at and tickling all my weakest sentiments, fondling them, luring them out into the open so they can be thrust naked and bare in front of me.
My afflicted consciousness massaged into defenselessness and exposed with nowhere left to hide. I cracked open my pandora’s box emoting a universe of despair and anguish until I was helpless and forced to face every errant memory without the fear of reprisal and regret or threat of revenge or bitterness.
If I truly wanted to heal I had to do what I feared most; allow myself to feel. I had to let go of what I’ve continuously pushed down and locked away for yet another day to console, reconcile or escape. I cannot transcend this grief if I don’t reach within and touch every single inch of it, embracing it intimately in front of the mirror.
All this wreckage that kept bubbling to the surface, taking bite after bite destroying me piece by piece with malaise and melancholy; it had to be met with patience and grace. I had to grant myself the kindness of understanding that some things, some people, some moments, some questions, some memories must be released from this bloody knuckled grip wrapped around them. The way I kept pretending I wasn’t coiled tightly, squeezing the life out of myself; shying away from meeting my dead cold eyes and hollow stare; the way countless snippets of nostalgia led me to believe that I wasn’t nearing deference to their convention.
So I unlocked the cage and freed my angels, demons and monsters. I walked among them barefoot on shards of fractured affections re-introducing myself and allowing myself to finally sink deep into a blighted bitter darkness holding hands and snuggling close until I shrieked and cackled in joy, and lamented and scourged reminiscing about a girl with wide eyes, a wicked smile and no fear of herself. This delicate child who chose to remain trapped in her gilded dungeon slaying dragons on her own, losing the light of hope, and shamelessly bereft of love. I was on the precipice of abandoning her to remain invisible down there in the prison I created, built to protect my heart. But this was no little cut, this was a bloodletting gone wrong and I was hemorrhaging.
It was more than an eye opening, it was extraordinary. I had merely been a shadow roaming the empty hallways of castles I built in the sky, for people that were no more than strangers now. I had nailed the gates shut to abandon the echoes grinning back hauntingly in the silence, though still leering and taunting in the gaps between iron bars; the sneers belittling and shrinking me under the weight of all the love I still had yet to give. I had been resigned to believing all the beauty I had weaved for these people, these moments in time were now lost to me in sorrow.
Then…
It was an incredible passing through saying goodbyes to the suffering I wasn’t meant to cling to, like a child’s hands on a railing. Then I felt that neglected child skip unafraid in the dark, chasing shadows into the light, reclaiming kingdoms and all those castles in the clouds of her sky. Roaming free with both demon and angel beyond the limits of her horizons, fires for new sunrises and sunsets. Cradling the delicate obscurity of the girl I used to be and learning to cherish the woman I had become; tending to the feet of the empress and sovereign of my future. I will not go quietly. I’m a lovely work of art, a thing of beauty, a poem whispered on kisses and the promise of making her my muse.
An exquisite surrender; painfully beautiful and bewitching. Rushing head and heart first into the unknown, fearless and ready to receive the kind of love I deserved - my love.
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