Delicate Dance
In the twisted depths of my upbringing, a delicate dance with madness unfolded. The choice to acknowledge and embrace my darkness, to revel in it unapologetically, is one that not everyone dares to make. It's like willingly diving headfirst into a chaotic whirlpool, proudly wearing the badge, allowing it to consume you while you maintain control. On the other hand, is it better to remain blissfully unaware or ignorant?
Once it touches your soul, it leaves an indelible mark. It's akin to stepping into pristine snow, feeling the satisfying crunch beneath your feet, disrupting the perfect silence, and tarnishing the flawless landscape. That crunch, a reminder, echoes within your bones, impossible to erase.
So, what is truly better? To acknowledge and embrace it wholeheartedly, disregarding everything else? When you're aware of your inner turmoil, you find yourself caught between two worlds, struggling to conceal your fucked-up nature from the prying eyes of the world. Like most, you attempt to mask your inner chaos, but deep down, you know your damage runs deeper than most. Your darkness is profound; you can keep it in check. Yet, there are moments—those rare, exhilarating moments—when you allow yourself to let go. In those fleeting instances, you feel truly alive. You crave the liberation of indulging in your delusions, embracing it all. Nothing makes you feel more out of control, terrified, and vibrantly alive. So, why deny yourself the surrender completely?
During my formative years as a child warrior, I managed to suppress my instability. Being a wild and imaginative child allowed my mind to wander freely. "Heather, she certainly has an imagination. The things she comes up with," they would say. Some believed it was unhealthy how they indulged me in my fantasies.
My family, both my saviors and my destroyers, played a crucial role in my journey. When I was three years old, bedtime instilled a sense of dread within me. Lost in my whimsical world, like any child, I had my nighttime rituals to prepare for sleep. Donning my nightgown, I would make my way to bed, aware that the monsters awaited my slumber. Yet, I possessed an ace—a legion of dragons and fairies ready to engage in battle. I didn't know how long the conflicts would endure or what they would entail, but I always knew how they commenced.
Nestling into the frigid bedsheets, their icy touch scraping against my fragile, bony legs like cold iron, I readied myself for the impending clash. Resting my head on the pillow, I would hear the resounding thump-thump of drums, commanding my loyal fairies to stand guard. Then, as my mother tucked me in tightly and bestowed her goodnight kiss, bidding me farewell and professing her love, it felt like the queen was sending her princess off to war. Little did I know back then that I would face countless battles, some of which would be waged against my family. The lights would dim, the door left ajar, and it would commence. Silence. Always silence. And then, that haunting sound filled me with terror every night, the sound that marked the beginning of the skirmish—the Beast, as I would later name it. The creature always accompanied me into battle, a formidable foe I could never seem to vanquish. BOOM BOOM. BOOM BOOM. BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM. Frozen in place on my pillow, I knew the brute patrolled just beyond our property, prowling the edges like a relentless predator. I lay there, gathering strength and courage to launch my attack, listening to the crunch of dead leaves under its foul, repugnant feet. In the realm of fairies, those moments seemed to stretch for hours. Reflecting on it now, knowing that the sound was merely the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears and not some monstrous behemoth outside, doesn't make my creature any less accurate or diminish the challenge of deciding whether to slay it, call a truce, or ride alongside it. It only amplifies the painful reality, rendering it less enjoyable than it once was.
My deficiency morphed into a shield to protect myself from the chaos surrounding me and a weapon to navigate the treacherous waters of my existence. In those moments, I found solace, a respite from the harsh realities that threatened to consume me.
As I grew older, the battles changed. The monsters under the bed transformed into demons within my mind, and the Beast lurking outside my window took on new forms. It was no longer a creature of the night but a manifestation of my deepest fears and insecurities. The battlefield shifted from the physical realm to the battleground of my psyche. The pounding in my ears became the rhythm of my struggles, the cacophony of doubts and anxieties that echoed through my soul.
I embraced it, cherished it, for it was a part of who I was. Amid the darkness, I discovered a flicker of light—a creative fire that burned within me. Through the void, I found my voice, art, and purpose. I channeled the discord into words, painting vivid pictures with my thoughts and creating a world where I was not cursed but possessed a gift.
Through the pages of my journal, the strokes of my brush, the movement from within, and the melodies of my music, I forged a path toward self-discovery. I dove headfirst into the depths of my mind, unafraid of what I might find. I explored the labyrinth of my emotions, embracing the shadows and finding beauty in my soul's raw, untamed corners.
And in that exploration, I realized that I had found a companion. It was the driving force behind my creativity, the fuel that propelled me forward. I no longer feared it but embraced it as an integral part of my being.
As I look back on my journey through the depths of my madness, I discover my strength, resilience, and the beauty of embracing my authentic self.
So, to those who question, who try to stifle my expression or label it as something to be ashamed of, I say this: this brutiful thing is a part of me, woven into the very fabric of my existence. It is the source of my creativity, passion, and authenticity. And I will continue to dance fearlessly and unapologetically, for it is in that dance that I find my truest self.
