The devil of my life’s experiences sits comfortably on one of my shoulders and whenever something good happens, he whispers, “This isn’t going to work. It’s too good. Nothing in your life works out, this won’t either.”
I sometimes wonder, in my adult life, as if I’m cursed. That – somehow – the universe keeps score and my adulthood is bound to pay its dues for the beauty that colors the ease of my childhood.
I’ve found myself in recent months riding a journey of happiness. I have a beautiful love, I have so many things to be grateful for. Even amidst this pandemic, even though the world is upside down, I’ve truly found myself living – as the saying goes – my best life. And as I ride on this high cloud I can’t help but wonder, as these peaceful moments tick away, am I growing moments close to detonation? My adult life seems to have the fragility of a bomb. Ever lurking moments away from pure disaster.
While the beauty of my childhood shines as a beacon of light in the innermost corners of my brain, my adulthood feels like a dark, looming shadow. I’ve been fighting for so long. Fighting for acceptance as a gay woman. Recovering from betrayal, manipulation, deceit, and heartbreak in all of my past relationships. Overcoming sexual assaults. I feel like a soldier in the midst of war. And I’m tired of fighting.
I often find myself feeling as if I’m treading water. Fighting to survive. Questioning everything. My head is just above the water as I fight with every ounce of endurance left in my bones not to fall under. Gasping, choking at times. “Keep fighting,” I tell myself.
The devil of my life’s experiences sits comfortably on one of my shoulders and whenever something good happens, he whispers, “This isn’t going to work. It’s too good. Nothing in your life works out, this won’t either.” I’m drowning in deep waters of fear. But how could I not be? Imagine for a moment a few movies where you’ve sat sobbing in the back row of a theatre – experiencing the heartbreak of the protagonist as their love on screen shatters before your eyes. I’ve experienced just about every one of those plot lines.
Heartbreak has been a reality of my life and the fear it has created is a dangerous and deceptive parasite. It feeds the brain, injecting its poison – making up stories, creating thoughts that aren’t real, constructing stories that don’t exist. Its poison consumes me. My brain has been groomed for this behavior and trust me, it’s an ever-raging war. While my pain has created a tough exterior, my insides are as fragile as a thin sheet of glass. It takes one comment, one notion, one disappointment – and I shatter.
Have I finally made it out? Have I beat the system? Are my dues paid?
I guess only time will tell.