by Dee Lean
A black cloud moves in amidst rolling thunder and thick, heavy droplets of rain. I stand by idly waiting for it to come closer. It will arrive slowly at first; something you can see at a distance but blindly hope you will be able to shelter yourself from; or that it will pass you by.
But still it comes; you’re unprepared for the unpredictable storm.
It steadies itself upon your head, weighing heavy on your shoulders, crushing your chest, making it hard to breathe and settles in for the long stay.
All around you, you cannot see this formidable gathering that drags you down into the darkness.
You open your mouth to explain what they can not comprehend. They say there is no darkness, that there are no dark clouds or rolling storm. There is sunshine and blue skies and beautiful scenes all around you.
Why can you not see it?
Love becomes a word that means absolutely nothing. A memory of a feeling that lived inside you once; it kept you warm at night and held you close when everything felt wrong. A shoulder to lean on when you felt your legs weak beneath you; hands to lift you up and dust you off when you had fallen. Love was your head against his chest, hearing a heartbeat steadily against your ear.
And then it was gone. And then he was gone. And then you were gone.
It was all replaced with a darkness. A mist surrounds your every thought and move. You can’t shake it or set it free. It’s tied to your soul, it’s tethered to what’s left of your broken and shattered heart.
Everyday is a struggle and a war against the demons that have taken up residence inside your head. They talk to you in muffled ramblings, informing you of your worthlessness.
Unlovable, unlikable and the ugliness manifests.
Days roll into weeks and weeks roll into months and you still can’t see a way out of this hell and the walls that have built up around you. So why do you hold on and keep the hope alive?
Only in total darkness can you see even the smallest slithers of light. And with the light comes redemption. And with redemption comes my survival.
I am a survivor and my story does not end here…
***Dee Lean believes that a writer that doesn’t write is like a soul without a mate, aimlessly wondering without a purpose. Born in Belfast, Ireland, Lean currently lives in Melbourne, Australia and is a single mother to two gorgeous kids that get her up and inspire her to see and seek the good in all. When people ask her what she does, she simply says, “I write.” She tweets at: https://twitter.com/Dede18 ***