At last, I meet the demons

Fear.

That knot in the stomach, that skipping beat of the heart, that little, gnawing elf dancing around in the head telling me I am less than human.

Long have I struggled with this mischief monger, not knowing that I am in its thrall. I deluded myself into believing that the demons i thought lurked under the bed as a child, stayed there.

They didn’t, they followed me, trapping me at every step I took.

I struggled this past year. The arms I ran into seeking shelter from the sinister demons turned me over to them. I struggled with raw pain, I bled over heart-wrenching betrayals.

I saw friends who were not and I met the demons from under the bed. They were out there – baring their fangs into a grisly smile as I wept.

What has changed? I don’t know. Am I a child trembling in the night or a woman with choices to make? Or both?

Sometimes I know, sometimes I don’t. But what I do know is, I am getting sick of fear. A lot has changed. My life is not what it was. All that I had carefully built is lying at my feet, shattered.

Something else has to be built. At the moment, I don’t know what or how. But yes, something will be built.

When I look at the past or think about the future – I feel overwhelmed. The past holds loss, the future – uncertainty. But I have to take a step. Like a traveller lost in the forest at night, if I focus the torchlight on just one step ahead, maybe I can move.

And if those demons come for me – maybe I wont bury myself in the bedcovers, maybe I wont rush into the wrong arms. Maybe, I will rush headlong at the monster and fight.