“When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom
Let it be, let it be
And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom
Let it be, let it be”
I’m back, in desperate need of an outlet to expel my thoughts and extinguish an ever-present fear that was ignited nearly 2 years ago – the very real and time bound reality of my own mortality. For my own selfish reasons, I find my instinct to turn to words in times of crisis, allowing myself to write the thoughts I’ve condemned. To push myself beyond the narrow boundary of positivity and accept that being on the mend is not piecemeal and needs to be whole- this includes the thoughts that your supporters have classified as black sheep.
Despair can be a a challenging emotion to navigate, difficult to accept and determined to weigh you down into a dark abyss. Since my diagnoses, a dark cloud has loomed and followed too closely, bombarding my own mindfulness. A brigade of dark noise and worries ensued, enveloping my thoughts and continues to devour as long as its fed – a true glutton. The buffet is over.
What is an adult? If you define it as the years post-partying, blissfully ignorant and content with life essentials – this came to a screeching halt at 23. Adulting has proven to be a series of challenges testing my mental grit, physical stamina and potential to see beyond the surface. As a naive boy I evolved into a naive man that was punched in the face with the taboo phenomena of unhealthy youth – a notion that I dismissed until I couldn’t.
Even in the darkest of places, light exists and in my case an enduring flame that is family. Though my life has taken considerable shape over the last 2 years, I refuse to allow the darkness to overshadow the light. Reminiscent of the famous socially ubiquitous door analogy, I find life to be a series of ebbs and flows where we timeline our outgoing and incoming tides, acknowledging that both contribute to our mortal erosion. Incoming phases test our courage to welcome the new followed by subsequent outgoing tides that test our resilience and ability to let go.
Consistent with the ebbs and flows of the time, my daughters grand entrance would shortly precede the departure of our matriarch and my biggest supporter, Nonna. RIP
As I write from another room at PMH, my crisis that I have chosen to draw out is that I have fucken relapsed. That is the eloquence it deserves and that I will continue to serve up.
I’m calling an intermission to avoid feeding the beast at this time of night.
Talk soon,
The Hopeful Motif 