The Broken Goddess (by Dawn)

            Each morning she wakes up with the sunrise as it touches her with warm rays of golden thread filtering through the white linen curtains. This makes her soul feel alive and inspired but today something is different. The sun is shining as it normally does, awakening her gently with its caress. Today when she wakes up she doesn’t feel alive or inspired, this feeling has been getting less intense. Her inner fire and passion seem to be compromised.

            And today, today she feels like there is a black hole where her heart once was. How did this happen, it’s so very confusing. Where has her passion for life gone without her, she doesn’t want to be left behind. An empty shell of pain and confusion, alone in the world as if everything she once knew is slowly slipping away, farther and farther into the distance. Feeling scared and alone, she retreats into herself. Shutting down all emotions, other than those necessary for defense and survival- anger, frustration, and aggression. It’s time to guard her heart with what little of herself she has left.

 

            As she moves through her daily activities, her interactions are becoming more strained, more painful, less enjoyable and harder to navigate. There is a huge barrier in her life that she can’t yet see. Her struggles must first grow until she cracks, breaking into pieces and attempts to rebuild many times. So many in fact that she feels cornered by ugly choices. There are no more comfortable choices left to pick from. She’s broken, alone, exhausted laying at the bottom of a deep, dark pit- her life.

 

Lying in pieces motionless she has nothing left but the ability to reflect on the deep, dark void that was once her life. She is nothing, she has nothing. She is reduced to nothing more than shards of broken glass that can never return to what they once were.

 

Questions run through her mind constantly, if only she could quiet the voices of fear, invalidation, and sabotage...there are so many voices. Hers, his, theirs, why won’t they stop. How did this happen? Why me? Why does this hurt so much? I’m so scared. I’m weak, hopeless with nowhere to turn. Feeling more alone than ever before as if she has been sent into solitary confinement and the world around her has died. Abandoning her to remain with only her thoughts. Painful, judging, accusing, blaming, hurtful thoughts looking for validation.

 

Feeling cornered she has but one remaining skill- her breath. Inhale, exhale, pause. Inhale, exhale, pause. Inhale, exhale, pause. Inhale, exhale, pause. Inhale, exhale, pause. It’s all she has. She continues to inhale, exhale and pause until enough strength returns that she can begin to move her limbs. Slowly, gently she has to relearn how to move. She has been broken for so long. Attempting to move one limb at a time, inhale, exhale, pause. She stumbles and falls. Breath and try again, she manages to take just one step before falling again. She needs rest.

 

Stillness settles into her aching body. Breath is returning to normal. But the pain remains, the emptiness as vast as eternity, and the gaping hole in her chest feels raw. A twinge so small it’s barely palpable flutters in her soul… could it be! One golden thread of strength remains deep down in her being. The thread is buried so deeply and is so fine it can only be felt when all else is still and silent. She breathes, motionless. She closes her eyes, was it just her imagination or is there hope? Silence, stillness, and breathe reveal the answer. Yes! She feels it again. But how to gain access and use this fine thread? It appears so fragile it could break at the slightest pressure.

 

            More breathe, it’s still her only tool. Connecting with the essence of this seemingly fragile glimmer of hope through breath and gentle movements develops this subtle strength. Each day she takes time to turn off the pain of the outside world, the void, the judgement to spend time alone with this golden thread, it needs love. She has very little to give but she’s willing to try for could things actually get any worse.

 

            The thread is becoming thicker and stronger each day. As it does, her love grows. Love for herself. The pain is still there although the deep aching seems to be subsiding ever so slightly. Her heart is heavy but the burden is lifting and the black hole shrinks bit by bit. As the darkness settles, rays of light begin to creep in for the golden thread is attracting it. Reflecting light onto the dark surfaces of her being. There is hope for her after all. She might just survive this.

 

            Her golden thread has become a rope strong enough for climbing. She’s ready to try, she wants to face her demons and those of others who helped to put her here. Her strength is returning and her love growing exponentially. Not entirely sure of who she is yet or who she is becoming but she trusts. More than ever before she trusts, in herself and in the goodness of humanity. Ironically, feeling the deep unsettling of emotional abandonment, the white hot irons of verbal suppression and the demons of betrayal have opened her eyes to all that is good in the world. It doesn’t have to be this way! I don’t have to live like this! But she knows it will be a fight to get out. A battle so epic it will go down in the history of her soul like an apocalypse.

 

            Anchoring her golden rope of faith and strength she begins her climb. It’s intimidating, she is now completely alone with only herself to rely on. In this she trusts that all will be well because she is enough. Slowly, steadily climbing. Dodging obstacles of fear, maneuvering over boulders of judgment and questioning she stays the course unwavering in herself. With each minute step of success she can feel her soul lighting up, her passion returning slowly although it feels different no longer rebellious in nature but far more settled like a compass guiding her methodically forward.

 

            She has no idea how far she has to go to make it out of the pit that has become her life, all she knows is she must keep moving. Resting, breathing and heeding the guidance of her soul’s compass. There will be a day of victory. She will conquer this void and she will once again own her identity never to compromise it again. With that trust she continues onward, bleeding from the remaining shards of glass that have penetrated her being. They are but surface wounds that will heal in time and hold no comparison to the depth of her inner struggles. She prepares herself sensing that the battle is near.

 

            The sun is shining as it normally does, awakening her gently with its caress. Today when she wakes up she doesn’t just feel alive or inspired and this feeling has been getting more intense. She doesn’t feel inspired. She feels new, strong, and ready. There’s no way of knowing what life has in store for her but she is brave, courageous and able. Strong enough for the largest of battles, she stands tall puts on her shield and emerges into the day with the understanding that she is alone and that is alright. Finding nothing waiting for her she is confused. Where is the battlefield, the soldiers, the demons, the fight?

           

            She sits down slightly disappointed that she didn’t have the opportunity to put her new found strength to use, she breathes. Inhale, exhale, pause. A new voice creeps in, one she is unfamiliar with: “Look back, the battle has been won and so you are free.”