Apparently I had a little left over from yesterdays writing prompt hope!
And in the beginning…we all have an in the beginning, a point in time when we hit the rocky depths of the abyss and we pleaded with whatever God we could find that would listen, for some light, even if at that time it came only in the form of a shadow. If you are yet to experience this moment, then I promise you it will come, it haunts your existence waiting in the shadows to reveal to you, who it is you truly are. We’ve all seen the quotes telling the world that strength is a hidden beauty discovered somewhere in the pits of hell…or something along those lines, so there’s no need for me to tell you this. And so it is that, in the darkness I have discovered my strengths. As a writer it always intrigues me to discover where a person writes from, more than once I have been told we write from the pains of society, lost love, lost freedoms and the iron bars of true identity and as much as I would like to say this is invalid, it is entirely true. Every word we spill onto the page is the fulfillment of the yin and yang concept, to see beauty we must know of ugliness, to know love we must understand hate, to know pain we must recall a time when we felt nothing. My life is seemingly filled with ‘and in the beginnings’ that I am only aware of when I speak of my past and I see the look in others eyes, such a simple response and in that moment they inadvertently make me feel some how ashamed of my nonchalant descriptions…and I wonder am I broken? My husband says to me in that strained, ‘the holy fuck are you doing’ voice that he gets when he see’s me climbing the step ladders, ‘Please don’t do these things.’ and I think, don’t do what? don’t live? You see I recall that moment of darkness as though it were tattooed across my skin, in a sense it is, it’s tattooed through my muscles, pain, there is not a single day when I will forget that feeling of ripping my back muscle, again and again and again until the days blurred into weeks and the weeks blurred into years and the pain was finally defined as chronic until the brain no longer knew the difference between what hurt and what didn’t. And of all the, in the beginning moments in my life pain has been the most defining. I recall the darkness that seeped into my mind stealing away my dreams bit by bit until the abyss was the only hope I had left. For the first time in my life I didn’t know how to rise above this pain. I was rapidly forgetting what it felt like to feel no pain in my body until that day when I forgot, it was gone, I could no longer recall the freedom of pain free movement. It amazes me how we recall with ease the moment in our lives when the world imploded and yet try as I might I don’t recall when it changed, when the pain become a low buzzing that I could once again at the very least try to fight, I don’t recall when I started to hear the birds sing again, or feel the beauty of the sun against my naked skin, I don’t recall when the world became as amazing as what it now is. Each day is a day I never believed would come and so I am creating new dreams as I wander through, redefining the rules and creating a reality just for me. I saw a quote yesterday that said something like, ‘a goal without plans is just a wish,’ I’ve been surviving on stolen wishes for years, this was not the life I was meant to have and yet I would not trade who I am now for anything this world can offer. I don’t ever want to write from the pains of my past, from the broken childhood to the teenage years that were shrouded in darkness and coveted by guardian angels I never knew existed to the realisation of having your every dream swiped away from you, but in reality it is in the blank canvas of the unknown that I discovered beauty. It is here in the muscles that scream in pain that I discovered a stubbornness to survive, a need to see beauty, a desire to feel passion but mostly I learned that i could depend on myself alone my every need could be fulfilled by me and there may come a day when I have to put pen to paper and declare in poetic melody that I built my walls to high, that the ones that love me cannot reach me and I will write in scribbled letters of the key that was always there, but they just never opened their eyes to see. And so in the beginning when the world I wanted became the world I could not have darkness seeped in and stole away my light, but somewhere in that deep abyss a small flame flickered, perhaps the flame that tells me my past is just that, or perhaps the whispered strength of wisdom or maybe the last flame of hope.
Karen Hayward ©2016