The fierceness of the wind reflected my inner turmoil. This was not my typical existential wave; this was a tsunami of doubt that filled my mind. The whirling thoughts refused to be silenced, or even calmed, keeping me off center throughout the day. Walking helped, but my mind ran circles around all my fears, expanding and exploding them into nightmarish scenarios.
Had I contracted a deadly disease? Was I spending too much money? Can I actually write? Have I ever been good at anything? Around and around ran my brain, escalating each fear in a nightmarish dance.
By evening, after a visit to the gym and more exercise, my brain gained some equilibrium. The fears receded, and I could laugh at my obsessions. Which did not mean that I was ignoring them, I was just relieved they were not haunting me. That is, until I went to bed and they waltzed through my dreams.
By morning, after more miles, I could think clearly about and breathe through my relentless self-judgment. This is not something that I want to blame on my past, my family, or my life experiences. This is something I want to embrace as a part of me that I am shedding away, like a snake skin I no longer need, making room for a brilliant light to emerge.
Even when I was young, I knew that I was hiding part of myself behind a dark, heavy curtain. Over the years, I have peeled back the fabric and torn down the overlays, only to find deeper layers protecting my heart, and, yes, my soul. I pray that these are the last layers of darkness that I built to protect my light, that I can pull down the veils and expose those vestiges of pain and trepidation until they melt into the light.