Ah, the darkness… It seems so real, so convincing that it is the truth; that it will never pass.
My darkness has shown up in many ways over my 45 years on this planet. From the brutal grips of addiction when I was younger, to facing the uncertainty of life through my own illnesses and the loss of loved ones, to the terror of extreme self-doubt created in my own mind.
Many of us become paralyzed by our own obsessive pattern of over-thinking.
My heart goes out to people who are so lost and trapped in this behavior that they may never see a way out. I mean never. Some are addicts who are trapped in their addiction. When in the middle of an addiction, vision is beyond clouded. There is no light. If it is there, it is a brief flicker, barely reliable. Others may not have the obvious traps, yet they remain forever stuck in self-hatred.
Recently, I receive a tragic email from a trapped person – a forlorn individual, writing to me in the middle of the night, expressing her aloneness, her desperation to feel “good enough” and her desire to be accepted. Feeling like she had nothing left to give, her life occurred like a desperate struggle for survival.
My heart aches for her. I seek the words to reach her with more than just a Band-Aid for her self-esteem. I know that transformation is possible, that a life can alter in an instant. I have seen it over and over again. Where previously there was darkness, a light comes on and a life alters. It is possible in a short period of time. However it requires a willingness to open the mind to consider that just maybe ones entire life of self-doubt and fear was simply a lie.
Will there be anything I can say to alleviate this persons suffering? Will she listen? If I throw out the lifeline, will she take it? Maybe in simply sharing, she experienced a temporary relief. Yet sometimes when we are so immersed in the story of our pain, the sharing only leads to more confirmation of the truth. It doesn’t give us perspective; it gives us more evidence that it is that way.
I chose to throw a lifeline. I reminded her she wasn’t alone. I suggested she seek help and acknowledged her courage for reaching out. I told her there was a light at the end of the tunnel – that I had seen it, lived it and experienced it.
Later, at the airport, I saw an elderly man literally shuffling toward his gate. He had a cane in each hand and his boarding pass gripped between his teeth. Slowly he would slide one foot forward, dragging it at an excruciatingly slow pace. Then he would repeat with the other foot. I watched him move towards his gate in this manner, one step at a time, a raw picture of determination and courage.
May we all find that determination within, not just to continue on, but also to thrive.
