Where am I? Not this intersection…again. So familiar…I’ve been here countless times before. The darkness, blistering chill, confusion, heart-rate increase, wave of panic…all unmistakably recognizable signs of the same crossroads. Which way to turn this time? All ways appear to lead to the same direction: misery.
Will I ever be able to escape this prison? A prison: steeped inside my thoughts. A puzzle: consisting of millions of interconnecting splintery slivers. A maze: created with thousands of dead ends and endlessly circuitous routes, spitting me out into the same well-trodden paths that I have already plodded through times innumerable. A primitive forest: laden with sticky-fingered webs, giant boulders that stubbornly block the path, jutting roots that snarl as I trip, thorny growths that snicker as they prick. A seemingly endless road to nowhere, except towards the same confusion, panic, and darkness.
Then, through the blurry obscurity, something reaches out and touches me. A hand, not shaking with uncertainty or dread, instead strong and steady with assurance. A hand that offers to dispel the oncoming despair. I am not the first to have been stuck in this desolate place. She has been here before. She has experienced the same loss, the becoming lost, and the being found.
“Don’t give up hope,” a kind voice comforts. “Escape is possible, although never easy. This place is not never-ending, although it appears infinite at this juncture. I have existed in this place, become lost in it, and have survived it. Escaped and become stronger and wiser because of it. Don’t despair. You will find the way out. Take my hand, follow my voice. Trust that the end is just around the corner. Can you see?” Over time, the pricking thorns make way for gentle ferns. “Keep moving.” Over time, the darkness grows less and less. “Keep moving.” Over time, the air loses its chill and begins to warm and comfort. “Keep moving.” Over time, the rocky terrain no longer trips, the webs no longer entangle, the black demon shadows that haunted can no longer torment. Confusion dissipates, panic calms. Freedom awaits.
Thank you, friend, for reaching out your helping hand with kindness, understanding, and patience. For coming to my aid during my weakest moments. For sharing your strength when I was the most vulnerable. For offering hope when despair seemed to overwhelm. For selflessly reliving your hell in order to help me escape mine. For showing me that liberty was again attainable. I will never forget.
Pieces to Peace 