Why and How We Travel in Darkness?

It happens in a whisper.

One moment, I was innocent and carefree. The next, I was divorced, holding a beautiful child in my arms, desperate to live a life that felt healthy, happy, and whole.

No one plans to end up in the dark.

No one dreams of becoming angry or hostile. No one chooses betrayal, abuse, or abandonment, especially not by the one person we should be able to trust most: ourselves.

No one sets out to become addicted to alcohol, drugs, nicotine, or food. But sometimes, it begins with one poor choice...One desperate drink to calm the nerves. One hit to stop the ache. One comforting bite at a time. And we spiral, in slow motion, into the cold depths of despair.

I didn’t choose to cause my mother worry.

I wasn’t a rebel.

I wasn’t a bad kid.

I was hurt.

Hurt over and over again. Eventually, I let people hurt me. I even pushed people to hurt me.

Because I knew what that was. I knew the sting of toxic loathing. It was oddly comforting in its familiarity. Darkness became my normal.

The Descent Begins Quietly

It began when my parents split up; somewhere in that rupture, my mother started to despise me.

She didn’t see me, the toddler who followed her everywhere, who would’ve traded her wild brown waves for her mother’s glamorous, thick, chestnut mane.

All she saw was my father.

All she saw was her pain.

I remember hearing her call me names I didn’t understand—but I knew them. They were not kind. I could feel the toxic venom coating every word.

Every word, every name, a dagger intended to maim with pain.

She gave me impossible chores. If I asked a question, My Mother would punish me for interrupting her reading.

And somewhere in all that silence, I began to betray myself. I began to believe I was bad. That I was unworthy of the love the Sunday school teacher spoke of.

Wearing the Smile

No one else knew the darkness I was in. I had learned to smile and accept whatever I was given.

A smack across the face.

A cruel insult from a so-called friend.

More silence from the people I loved.

I kept smiling. That was my mask.

Telling people I was hurting only brought more anger. More ridicule. So I hid it. I filed it away. Eventually, I even denied it happened.

But denial only works for so long. Mother Nature, Divine Wisdom, God —whatever name you call it demands healing. And sometimes, the path to healing begins in the ugliest, darkest places.

Why do we travel in darkness?... So we can get to the Light.

We travel in darkness because that’s where truth lives. Not the truth they told us, but the truth we feel.

It is where we reclaim what was stolen:

Our worth.

Our voice.

Our knowing.

Our Light.

We don’t travel the dark to stay there. We go because it is the only honest road back to ourselves.