The Box

I can remember the moment the last of me, my true self, went into The Box.

A box I created. Created from discarding fragments of myself to fit into a mutated narrative.

I was dreaming, and within that dream I faced a man, what I now know was a guardian.

A beautiful man. Flawless. Tall, strong, skin the color of porcelain, pitch black hair, eyes that held galaxies.

He was beyond perfection. He was terrifying. His presence was a threat I didn't understand.

I remember attacking him and he just stood there. Unmovable.

I came at him in wild fury. Desperate to prevent what was coming.

He took every blow. Every shove. Every fist. Every scream.

Then, without a word, he took me by the arm and led me down steps into the dark.

A dark so dense it was nothing but emptiness, emanating from a pit of fucking despair.

If I let him take me down into that darkness, I knew I would not come back out. Death was promised there.

All I could do was fight. I fought with everything I had.

I lost.

I went into the dark, and I didn't come out for a long time.

Until one day, when I was trying to soothe my breaking heart, the day I cried out to any god that would listen.

I heard me. Felt me. The true me. Clawing at a solid mass within me.

I knew then what had happened. The dream came flooding back with ruthless clarity.

I was trapped in a box. A cage of impenetrable granite. Solid. No seams. No locks. No cracks. No hope.

What have I done? I couldn't speak. I was panicking. I had betrayed myself.

I didn't know how, but I was going to get myself out of that fucking box. I vowed it. I was going to save myself.

Because this time, no one was coming.

Just me and whatever was left of me that still had fight.

Then, the universe started working. I started listening.

I began chipping away at the box. For the first time in a very long time, if ever, I understood what I was worth.

I was worth saving. I was worth freedom from the chains, the cage, the fucking box.

And when I finally stepped back into myself, when I took my first breath into freedom

I knew, with everything in me, there was no going back to what I was.

I was the paradox at the center of my whole story. I was both the thing fighting to stay whole and the thing that built the box. I wasn't fighting an external force either time. It was always me.

I didn't know what I didn't know. I forgive myself for abandoning myself, for judging and shaming.

Slowly, with steady movement forward, I came back to life. With loving souls that met me along the way, I began living.

I am here now. I am alive. I am living.

I wish you well along the journey of this human experience. Each of us set up our own experiences before stepping into life. You are always at choice here. You are right where you are meant to be.