The Dark

I recently met someone that spoke of "The Dark".  The phrase resonated with me.  Most humans would consider themselves diurnal, whether they know the term or not.  The Children of the Sun have always greatly outnumbered the Children of the Moon.  We are radiant beings.  We dance in the light, reflect it, and absorb it.

But away from the equator, the winter season brings cold and darkness.  The cold drives us into our caves.  It must; we lack fur.  We find other sources of light and heat.  We have become quite proficient at interacting with others from the warmth and safety of our caves.  We schedule celebrations that encourage interaction.  We remind each other of the coming of spring.

I had not, honestly, considered the effect of the fading sunlight.  I am a Child of the Moon.  The quiet and mystery of the dark have always brought me peace.  The light of a fire brings out all that I find beautiful in my fellow humans. 

But for many, the long nights gnaw at them.  I do not know which of the myriad aspects of darkness drains them.  I cannot speak for them.  I can only empathize.  I can offer my hand.  I can point out the light that remains.  I can sit with them in the darkness.  I can break the silence or basque in it.

I am a Child of the Moon.  I never want anyone to be afraid of "The Dark" ever again.  I don't expect, or even wish, them to embrace it.  I do, however, want them to hold on until daybreak.  If I can help them do so, I will.

Get back up

I am not a physician or a psychologist.  I do not provide advice to others in regards to their mental health.  I can not know the mind of others.  I believe that all humans are unique and that there is not "one answer".  What I will do is share a coping methods in the hopes that it helps some one.

You see, I have always been my own worst critic.  A critic that can never be satisfied.  A critic that expects acts of legend.  A critic that requires immortality.

This personality trait has driven me.  Although I will not succeed, I have tried to be above criticism... to overpower the doubt with pride.  I have had fleeting moments where my successes were enough.

I have from time to time be overcome.  The self-doubt has reached the point of self-loathing.  I have allowed it to sweep over me.  I have sought escape in myriad forms.  I have become stronger as I've grown older.  I have fought the battle again and again and the victories of the past empower me.  But, I am not yet immune.

Throughout my life, I have maintained one coping mechanism.  At my lowest, my spite remained.  The venom in my veins has allowed me to move forward.  I have not broken in large part, because I refuse to kneel.  The very act of questioning my strength fuels me.  The emotion of fear drives me to be reckless.

If you have reached a point where the destructive thoughts hold sway...  If you wish for escape in any of its forms...  If you don't have the strength to keep going... I ask you to confront what is destroying you.  Give it form.  Confront it's lies and anger and fear.  Spit its words back at it.  For it is of you and less than you.  If you are weak, it is weaker.  Any faults it may point out are its faults as well.  Let yourself seethe for you are being attacked.

And as you have again and again...

Get back up.