“Sometimes, I wish you had a different mother” her words ring into my ears in slow motion. I’m not sure if the words were meant to make me aware of a crucial step in my healing, or to cut deep, both were achieved.

I know, I’ve been trying to shine a light on it for some time. Somehow my light starts to flicker every time I get close to what it is I am missing. 

I’m tired of blaming my mom, I wish others would get tired of it too. I need to hold myself accountable, and remember that I have a long way to go. 

There is no guide greater than your surroundings and how they’ve reflected off your energy. Maybe I need to change the batteries in my light and stop making excuses as to why I’m not really looking at what’s lurking over there in the dark.

The dark, where you can’t see. Sometimes gleefully blinded, only the dark doesn’t stop the noise driving through your ears.

It’s like the chair with the clothes pile in the dark, walking up the basement steps with the lights off behind you. Or when it’s pitch black and you hear footsteps. It’s scary. 

Only thing scarier than the dark is the light when it shines on you.