Musings from the Darkness


Not so long ago, I was in a dark, dark place. One that terrified me and still does when I allow myself to think about it. I cannot stand to imagine what could have been. I recently discovered an emotionally driven and hastily written journal entry. It provides a glimpse into what that time was like. Just a glimpse. I’m not sure that I will ever be able to put into words what was happening during that time. But, here are some that only scratch the surface.


I worry that she knows, but I also worry that she has no idea. I want so badly for someone to understand but am afraid of what they will say. I daydream of speaking without fear but am awoken by a racing heart, feelings of dread and regret, and an urge to protect my secrets. Why must they be secrets? They may prove less potent if spoken aloud. Then again, they may become real, and that is a risk I cannot take. For, should it become more real, I will surely break. I am overwhelmed with emotions, but what if that is something else that must be hidden? What parts of me are acceptable? I must be together, well-adjusted, and fully able. I must not show what is happening behind the scenes. Because, what would she say? Is there something wrong with me? Something really, truly wrong? I cannot handle the possibility. I want to feel able. I want others to see me as able. But, there are days I am much less than okay. Most of my days are not good, but who would understand? My shame has multiplied as secrecy abounds. I cannot hope to be understood. How can I explain that I cannot do less? That I have something to prove? That I am still affected by what he said? Why is he still holding that power? Shouldn’t forgiveness relinquish it back to me? I cannot forget. The words continue to echo as I am haunted by the fact that I am his. If I am his, am I like him? What am I capable of? What makes me different? I cannot stand to be his, yet I cannot hope to escape it either. Why does he get to be proud of me? He does not know me. How can you be proud of someone whom you destroyed? Like, look what I have enabled them to be? NO! You have not enabled me. I am who I am despite of who you were and are. I am dealing with your effects still, and I cannot stand to think of you. I am afraid of you because I am afraid that I will be like you. Who am I apart from what you made me? Who would I have been? Surely not as I am. I would not be overcome with this thing. I would not question my identity. I would not questions my ability to be healthy and loved. But, I would also not be independent. I would not need for no one. I would not be so protective, so secretive, so guarded. If you could not care for me, who can? Can I even care for myself? I don’t know. I doubt and I wonder. I fear that I too easily seek the love and attention from others, still trying to fill some void that y’all left behind. It is filled with this thing, but I am unable to find peace in anything. I am always wondering, always worrying, always seeking, and never satisfied. I seek the things that I have lost, knowing full well that I will never regain it.


We Regret to Inform You


According to you, I would never amount to anything. You told me so many times that I thought you were right. I thought I was destined to be trapped in a cycle of mediocracy.

They convinced me that you were wrong.

I came to believe that I could do anything that I set my mind to, and I did. I was successful in school, earning good grades and high accolades from my professors. I worked on research projects and sat on committees. I was involved on campus, taking on leadership roles. I worked and earned my certification. I felt successful. I felt like I had done something with myself. I was proving you wrong.

It wasn’t enough.

We regret to inform you…

That’s what they said. But it spoke volumes to me. In an instant, the self-doubt I had tucked away with their help came flooding back. Who am I to think I could do anything worthy? Who am I believe that I am enough..good enough..hardworking enough..talented enough..committed enough..and the list goes on.

Immediately I wondered what I would do if I was not able to follow through with my dream. Who am I to dream?

I am destined for mediocracy after all.