Perseverance

The seemingly impossible path toward healing

Healing trauma wounds is a process that isolates you when you crave comfort the most.

The world around me throws stones of expectations in career, appearances and how to mould the status quo. 

What happens behind the closed doors of sheltered spaces is something only the fibre of my being and the four walls surrounding me knows.

The times I rise from my slumber, too weary to stand, only to collapse back down under the layers and layers of expectations piled on by society. 

Trembling and weary I stand, as some unknown force whispers "the only way to your dreams is straight on."

As weeks pass by, waymarkers of progress being made pass by at an increasing pace. An outline starts to form of the life I only dared to dream of.

Excitement fills me, but out of nowhere, fate plays like some twisted, interpetive dance as I slingshot right back to the place I dare not mention. 

Over and over, and over again. 

I see the sneering of those who prayed for my downfall as they say among themselves, "he will never rise."

Why keep fighting and pushing?

I am not being marched at gunpoint down this dark, forsaken path. I am doing this willingly. Have I gone mad? I ask myself. My driving force is the spark inside my heart placed at birth that refuses to be extingushed. 

Why do the hardest battles come when there is no more fight to give?

I catch a glimpse of the cliffs ahead that I must scale, reaching pointedly for the blackened sky. Exhaustion rattles my kneecaps. It takes every grain of strenth in my being not to tumble down to the water lapping at the pebbly shore.

I followed the map and everything that I have ever dreamed of lies beyond those formiddable walls. This much I am sure of.

I did not come this far just to collapse, so I raise my eyes to meet the outcroppings of the inscalable cliffs,

I take my first step forward.