Journey into the dark…

I am choosing to write about my experiences in the darkness of mind and memory throughout this blog because I have often wondered if there was another soul out there that could understand the horror and terror I have known. I have had to fight in many arenas in order to get to where I currently am, which is on the sidelines of a raging war, seeking reprieve and catching my breath in preparation for another round. I want to be candid and authentic so that anyone who reads these words and relates may know they are not alone in the dark.

My desire to heal from a life of brokenness has taken me to where I never imagined I could go, and not only go, but stay. I had to stay and face the demons and ghosts that have haunted my life because I knew, if I ran out, I might never have enough courage to go back in. I entered the dark places of mind and memory and allowed myself to remain present as I fell hard into what felt like a suspended abyss.

The only way I can describe the sense of abyss I experienced is to be deep under the surface of the sea where all is dark, where there is nothing to reach for and nothing reaching back, where alone is an understated word, where you simply hold on to the nothingness while the passing of time feels more like an invitation of death than a time of healing.

I waited in this darkness until I could no longer return the way I came… ~~~~ I began to feel that I had, in fact, entered hell, but not the hell I used to believe existed…. ~~~~ This hell was a vacuum that emptied me from the inside and yet was never satisfied. I felt stuck in this complete darkness… void of sound, light, colour, smell, taste, and touch. I began to beg for a way out, a rescue, an end…..

I wrestled with the darkness of mind and memory until I had nothing left in me to fight with. I became too weary to hope in a life beyond such separation from all that I knew life to be. My faith ran dry and my hope wore so thin that it seemed to have vanished. I had always been hopeful of a time when I would be free from a past that was toxic, destructive, and not meant for any human to live. But one day, something changed, and I fell into a deep darkness…. my hope for freedom ceased. I was now living moment to moment by sheer choice. I became terrified of what I saw in the dark, of what I felt inside, of the growing awareness that I was defenceless against the past.

Fear, the very emotion I forced into silence, had made its way to the forefront of all that I was, and with it surfaced all that I had been running from for forty years. The presence of nothingness caused indescribable pain in my body, soul, mind, and spirit. I felt as though I left footprints of blood everywhere I stepped and I could not stop or control it. I had lost control…. I was being swallowed up by memories that flashed before me like a video stuck on repeat. I could not fathom what was happening to me and was sure that I was nearer death than anyone knew, including me. I became afraid of even myself as I grew more and more weary trying desperately to hang on to nothing…..

Beauty had vanished. Love had been replaced by hate and rage. I pushed at everyone I knew giving each person a way out of being in relationship with me, and most stepped away. I needed to know that those who remained would have the capacity to fight for me when I could no longer fight. A few fought back and chose to remain present with me even though I fell silent as thoughts of death overwhelmed my waking hours. I was no longer wounded…. I had splintered into a thousand tiny pieces.

I am still in the fight, I have not given in to giving up. Just because something is broken does not mean it is worthless. I am always gluing broken things back together…. I keep an endless supply of crazy glue at hand because I need to know that was broken can still be. I don’t need the cup with the broken handle or huge crack to use it, I need the cup with the broken handle to remind myself that broken things still hold value. Actually, once I repair things, they are not like they were, they are different and more special somehow.

Kintsugi Art, which is an ancient Japanese art, also repairs broken things. But not repaired to what it once was, rather into something of higher value. The broken pieces are held together with a type of pitch which is then coated in gold or platinum dust. This special process takes what was broken and worthless and turns it into pieces of highly valued art. It is also known as “the art of precious scars.”

I am Kintsugi Art. I am not what was. I am becoming new even as I am covered in precious scars.

I am still in this dark journey but, even here, I am learning to see glimpses of the beauty that is only found in the place called dark. Beauty that finds its way past the demons and shadows and reflects a little light to remind me that I am on the right path….

As I continue on this journey in the dark place of mind and memory, I sense I am growing stronger even as I feel so weak. I feel freer even as I remain bound to a past that is mine. And so, I close my writing for today with a sense of peace I have never known and an awareness that hope can grow when all seems completely hopeless…

“Dive deep… Move into the flow… The currents of time… Take me… Deeper… Darker ~~~

The cold brushes my skin… I feel it in my veins… Memory flows… with ancient pain… Wounding… Reminding ~~~

Hold me in this sea… Keep me… Touch me now… That I may know… I am still alive ~~~

I reach… Into the flow… Guide me… Take me deeper… Submerged in sorrow… The sea of tears… The child’s heart… Knows only shame ~~~

Reaching… Grasping… Begging… Pleading…

Take me deeper… Beyond this place. Hide me in the darkness… The place of tears ~~~

Let go now… Currents flow… Moving me… Holding me…

Anger rising… Into my being… Rage comes like waves… My soul cries out……..I have been betrayed!

Move through me… Touch the unloved… Hold me here… In this place called deep ~~~

Before I was… I now am… Present here… In what is to come… Moments, hours and days…. ~~~~”

In gratitude, Kim