Dark to light; seven years in the making.

Seven years ago, I was in love. I was living in my favorite city with my best friend. I had just been promoted to my dream job: editor in chief of a local newspaper. I had followed all the rules to advance in the game I called life. It was the darkest chapter in my story.

So I ran.

I ran as hard and as fast as I could, and in the dust of my tracks, any reminders of what I loved was buried.

If I couldn’t see it, it didn’t happen. If it didn’t happen, then I wasn’t foolish, and if I was never the fool, then I felt no pain or humiliation. I felt nothing at all. For two years, I couldn’t even speak when someone asked for details or for me to paraphrase that chapter. That isn’t a hyperbole. Silence was my only response. My head and my heart would just shut down and go dark. To keep from staying a dark screen, I had to keep running to power back on the light.

Seven years ago, I avoided mirrors. I was living in my favorite city filled with some of my favorite people and places, but they never saw me. I couldn’t step into the light. That would uncover what I had become. And what I had become was so dark, any direct light would cause it to turn to dust. I avoided mirrors because my reflection was gone. The monster staring back at me was not someone I was proud to share with the real world.

I chose to hide in darkness, in an attempt to resurrect a life I knew was dead. I was just too stubborn and proud to let it rest in peace.

My best friend and I had become toxic, sucking the life from each other and calling it true love. We both morphed into the ugliest versions of ourselves. The real horror story of life is having to say goodbye to someone still living. But I think I had known from the moment we met, that I needed to say goodbye. I was too strong for him. I always wanted more and I felt I had to extinguish my light in order for his to shine.

Even diminished, my light smothered his. He rekindled with less intimidating flames. I felt like my wick had been cut at the root. I felt like all the light was gone and then there was darkness.

So I ran.

It’s been seven years and I’m in love. I’m living in a city I love with my best friend: me. I am a professor at Hogwarts where I instruct Baby Wizards to conjure lumos maxima. (Muggle translation: I spend my days teaching others how to find light in darkness.) This is one of my brightest chapters.

I only run to burn off pizza and peanut butter (peanut butter pizza on particularly magical days).

I don’t hide from mirrors. I’ve spent a long time studying my reflection. It doesn’t scare me anymore because I faced the monster staring back. I realized she’s isn’t a monster at all. Every scar, every blemish, every freckle, every wrinkle, every angle deserves to see the light of day, unfiltered. I am beautiful.

I can look back at all the places and people I have loved and that doesn’t obliterate my current light. I used to think I was the starring victim in my own horror story. Now I know that I have never been a victim. I choose the role I play. The genre of my story is dependent on my penmanship alone. Saying goodbye to someone may seem like the death of a life, but sometimes saying goodbye is the best act of love you’ll ever perform.

Seven years and I’m shining so bright I couldn’t hide if I wanted. There is a happiness inside of me that glows. I am on fire.

If you currently find yourself in a dark chapter, these words are for you:

shine on.

XoXo,

Feral