Far from through

From a very young age I’ve spent a majority of my time enveloped in darkness. Glimpses of light sporadically peeking through, more as a reminder that the tunnel I’m exploring does indeed seem to have an end. Love, being the ultimate goal, caused my search to deepen beyond the flesh of life’s soils, and dig… Boy, did I dig! Throughout my journey, I’ve met demons that wore my face, as their chastising voices laced my every thought. Until I thought, no more. I surrendered. I gave in. The blackened hole that was how I knew my soul to be, completely swallowed me.
Depression claimed me. It was bliss!
I no longer needed to hide my tears, no longer needed to paint on a smile, no need to be, anything. I had found the perfect dark corner of the world. Indifference. From here, nobody could ever reach me, harm me, hurt me, kill me, love me…wait… Nobody can ever love me… Fuck! What have I done?
Yeah, it’s one thing to realise that you’ve buried yourself alive, it’s a completely different task when recognising that it’s only you that has the claws that can scrape through this cryptic labrynth that you’ve burrowed your way into over the past three decades. Where the fuck does one start? Is the beginning the last shovel of dirt i coated my mind in, or is it all the way back to the first?
Now the claustrophobia kicks in! Great! The weight of every decision I have ever made crushing my chest, even the moments that I left for others to create seem to have fallen and landed on my already suffocating breath. The universe is fucked up, and it’s all my fault! Ok, so maybe this seems a tad dramatic, but I never said depression was rational. Honestly, I believe rationality is far overrated anyway. If I let my ‘mature’ mind decide all the paths to take, where’s the room, the freedom, to learn, grow from my own mistakes?
I picked up a saying, just a few years ago, in a moment where a microphone was being shoved into the faces of my best friend and I, karaoke! No way! We both shrilled… Until, she turned to me, and said, “What would your 65 year old self say?”
So, we both skipped to the stage and belted out a tune… It was hideous. But fuck it was fun! From then on, this 65 year old me has been pretty much cross stitching me new pieces of bravery from the opposite shoulder to the little lady I have labeled ‘miss rationality’. Which one wears red, who cares? All I know, is that before I even consult with lil miss, I give the aging lady a spin and twirl. Oh the things this 65 year old woman has had me do, I’m seriously blushing at the thoughts. Perhaps when I’m her age, I’ll write about the life we shared.
All I know, is that one moment of courage is enough to start turning these retched soils over…
All I know, is this darkness that lingers, whispers, beckons my return, is just another sign for me to pick up that shiny microphone and belt out another terribly pitched tune…
All I know, is that this 65 year old self and I are far from through!

…and the journey continues…