Tonight I talked myself out of the darkness.
If you were to drive by, you’d see there were no lights on in the windows and if you tried the doors you’d find them locked against you. To be completely honest, my bedroom floor was as far as I made it when I finally managed to get out of my car and come inside.
People don’t talk about how hard that walk is: from the driver’s seat to a house’s walls. From the promise of escape to the rooted nest. It’s admitting to yourself you’re not going to run away. You’re not going to drive until the sky fades from sorbet colors to the black splatter of stars. You’re not going to ignore your phone and disappear into the night. Ironically, you tell yourself you’re weak for feeling defeated and seeking the comfort of your sheets. In truth – it’s the most courageous walk of all, that walk from your driver’s seat. It’s the first step to making it to tomorrow.
Back to the floor, I’ve had watchful eyes on me now for several hours at my feet – a lone, loyal four legged creature who would notice before anyone else if I hadn’t come home for the night. And I almost want to bury my face in his fur and thank him. Thank him for noticing there is something terribly wrong. Thank him for breathing for me as he watches my sobs. Thank him for being such a light on nights like this when I surround myself in a shell of self hatred.
Tonight I fought the darkness with nothing but the soft inhales of my best friend beside me and the cool hardwood under my hands. Judge me for my inadequacies if you wish. God knows, I’m not a perfect person and this weakness I allow to seep through my system into my very bones is my own personal failure. Yet, it is part of life and I hope with everything in my heart somewhere in this world there is someone else just like me: taking that walk from their car into their home to talk their way out of the darkness.
Copyright © 2016 Pearl Bayou