My life has not been a life of ease. Nor one of riches, at least not in a worldly sense. My life has driven me deep, to rumble with demons cast upon me so long ago during a childhood where I did not feel safe.
Early on, I learned to bottle up, demand nothing, request little, and hope for less. Mine was a childhood of survival. Of watching my mouth, watching my back, and waiting for the next shoe to drop.
Much to my chagrin, these demons followed me into adulthood. Somehow, I thought they wouldn’t, but they did. Some gathered force over the years, wreaking havoc at the most inconvenient moments. Others were diminished through some strategically placed psychotherapeutic-exorcism. Still others—those partially reckoned with—continue to slink along in the shadows not quite ready to let me go.
I wish I could say after all these years, all the work I have done on myself, I have risen victorious but that would only be half true. I still wrestle with my demons, almost daily. I cannot count the number of times felt like giving up. But something in me wouldn’t let me quit, even though I wanted to very badly some days.
I know I am not done, even though at times I feel completely spent. I have more to do, more to experience, more to give. I will continue to find ways to weave my darkness into light, so that I may illumine the path of others wrestling with demons of their own.
As I dip my toe into the pool of old age, seeing my silver-haired reflection, I trust in my ability to build a meaningful life, leaving in its wake the difficulties of the past, and in so doing, create space for the deepest expression of my beautiful soul.