I forget how dark can be.
I forget how painfully real can feel the mental suffering when destructive voices cover everything.
I forget the power of the fear and of the desire to fade, to run and hide away where nothing can touch or be touched.
I forget the guilt and the blame.
I forget the lack of understanding and compassion I can feel towards this fragility of mine that I seem to be unable to really believe and accept.
I forget how dark can be when a night like this is far away.
I forget how, in these moments, small ordinary troubles feel impossible to face.
Doubts that nobody can solve for me reappear, would the medicines I don’t want to take be the solution? Is it silly this stubbornness of not wanting to take them and manage the problem differently? Am I actually managing it or lying to myself?
These days are like this. I know that they will pass and the sun will shine again, that I will feel again pleasure and gratitude for the many blessings in my life and I will think I am overacting, that nothing was really wrong with me, just a bit of silly sadness.
Life is made of shadows and light, sometimes the shadows appear without apparent reason because they are the production of the mind and it is difficult to understand and accept that they are real even if not true. I’m learning to sit with my shadows, talk with them and wait until they will be blown away, knowing that they will come back to leave again, wondering if anything will ever really change, but continuing to looking for a path, mine.
The light is starting to shine again, even if a bit timidly.
At the centre of the Mandala, there is a pulsating heart, tears are breaking it, hope that things can change is weakened by the shadows which surround the core trying to expand towards the centre. But the heart continues to beat and faith to exist beneath all those dark shadows.