The rain is pouring down on the last hour of what was a very long, and emotional day. Days like these don’t come around as often as they used to, which I am grateful for. But when they do…wow do they come full force.
So what am I even talking about here? I’m talking about the days that begin with the sun and are later overrun by storms. Days that begin like any other day, but quickly stand out for all the wrong reasons. I woke up today feeling unrested and knowing that my choices would determine whether the storm would be unleashed or not. But I need to confess: I didn’t make a choice. I let myself float through the morning, feeling the ripples of emotion crashing near the surface. But still, I ignored the warning. I grabbed my coffee, and mentally prepared myself for the day ahead, knowing that my inaction was a choice in the making. The rippling grew stronger and the waves were getting bigger. I prepared my breakfast in an attempt to shut out the noise. Out of nowhere a voice broke through my thoughts and there it was: the explosion.
It was as though a bomb went off inside me, unleashing a hurricane of regret, pain, and sorrow. I was angry and I felt the familiarity of brokenness. I did what I did best; I hid. I hid not to suppress my humanity but because I did not understand who I was in that moment. Memories of previous storms flashed before me as I sank deeper and deeper into an abyss that I could not fight back.
Small. Insignificant. Irrelevant. Forgotten. These words taunted me and fed the unrelenting chaos that had overtaken my mind. The storm did not recognize empathy or love as it stood in front of it; instead, it continued to feed its hunger with pain. The more pain it absorbed, the more satisfied it seemed and I couldn’t seem to stop it.
And suddenly out of the darkness, out of the clouds, and out of the storm, I saw a light. It was soft, inviting, encouraging, and loving. It reached for me and called me, waiting for me to call back. But I hesitated. I hesitated because I was afraid the words the storm spoke were true. And if they were true, how could I possibly be deserving of this light?
And then a new realization came: the light was part of me, just as the storm was. Both intense, both real, and both evidence of my humanity.
- “Wednesday”