Healing is part 3 of a 4-part collection I wrote called Bittersweet. I will post part 4 tomorrow evening. Comment, like and share. Read part 1 and 2
Even a spark of fire is still a fire.
Through a glimmer of light, I see through the dark.
Because I’m breathing means there is still hope.
All along my pride had gotten the better of me.
I found shame in not being ok.
The stigma of my mental health gnawed at me.
What will others think of me?
I was raised to pray when I needed solace.
I was so far gone, I didn’t know my way back.
I had hardened my heart.
One day I just started crying.
Something within me had broken.
I broke down on my knees
Praying that divine intervention comes my way.
I found solace in my friends and family.
I allowed myself to be vulnerable.
For so long my default had been to be stoic.
On the inside I was laboured by a heavy heart.
I went through life the right way, yet things didn’t go my way.
I studied hard, graduated, but I still had no prospects.
I was not adjusting well to life out of education.
The institution was the only home I knew.
The interviews I had it was always the same tune.
Not enough experience, they said.
I volunteered, trained some more, so I could join the rat race.
A year went by, no permanent opportunities arose.
I felt like a failure and I started to believe it.
There was no hope for me.
I had become a burden to my family.
When relatives asked about me, they were told lies.
He is doing some training, they said.
I was feeling sorry for myself.
Thinking the world would rescue me from my pity party.
Even those close to me could only do so much.
I had to dig myself out of rock bottom.
Another year went by and I lived just to see the sun set.
The world had lost meaning to me.
Life had me cornered.
Everything I tried was to no avail.
The effort I put in was all in vain.
Everywhere I turned was a dead end.
The 9 – 5 life seemed not to want me.
I conjured the strength to find my purpose in life.
I found solace in writing again.
I had neglected it long back.
I found a friend in pen and paper.
Scribbling my feelings whenever they weighed me down.
I unburdened myself through writing.
I had to let go of any ill feelings I harboured.
To accept things don’t always go my way.
Sometimes life is unfair like that.
With each passing day I unburdened myself through writing.
What I couldn’t say out loud I wrote down.
I found my voice in writing.
My words evoked strong reactions.
Suddenly I no longer felt alone.
Joy trickled into my heart again.
I owe it to myself to look to the future.
I have control over what is yet to happen.
What has happened, I can only learn from.
