Courage sleeps

atop the grave

of fear’s disease

its mascarade

the lotus bloom

in muddy ponds

of traitor’s gloom

devil’s errands

hope breathes

inside her lungs

of shining leaves

lightly hung

the girl will smile

in spite of fear

of tomorrow’s trials

and Voice’s sneers.

–July 16th, 2012

The harder I work, the harder It must work in order to attempt to remain the forefront of my mind’s eye. Faster, louder, harsher, The Voice will lash, attempting with It’s mighty will to lure me back unto its agonizing solace. It ensues to wear me down, presenting me with evidence of erroneous images and proportions of myself in the mirror. Ah, it is this tactic that which I most passionately despise. For how might one determine what is the truth when faced with so much terror? I am unaware of my true appearance; my sillohoutte stares gracefully into this antique mirror. Sometimes, I find myself musing about life in historic days, what it was like to live in a time where no such illnesses, no mirrors, no clothes, existed. Oh! How divine would it be to be fully content with myself, both inside and out. Yet, I know in my heart of hearts the truth about my musing: this stagnant period did not exist.

I feel so much joy, coupled with the overwhelming fear of coming back to my crime scene, if you will. So much seems to be falling into place, which frightens me, as it is this ease at which my life appears to be that is so awfully foreign to me. I do not recall a time that I felt so much peace with my ease with living. I feel the gifts of joy when I think back, back to the broken, hopeless girl I was just a few months ago compared to now. It is now that I feel…incredibly blessed and eternally grateful for my life. It is rather humorous, to me, the fact that less than three months ago I was fully content with ending my life. And to think that I attempted such tradegy, and not just once. But now, oh now it is that I glow with a radiance of a world-full of people who inspire me so! Not a day does pass that I am able to go by without becoming absolutely enthralled by the wonder of the beautiful lives of my fellow beings that accompany this life with me. It is because of others, you see, that I keep fighting.

I will not lie and say that this is easy, nor will I say that recovery is not a struggle. Every day I am faced with the decision to follow my meal plan or not, to look into the mirror and know that my appearance does not define me. It gets easier, it truly does, but it will never be easy, as they say. I do not know what the future holds for me, nor do I want to know. All that I know is that today, right this second, I am okay. I may not be the happiest person ever, but who truly is? I am living, and this is my life. My life in recovery. ❤


~ by candyshele1204 on September 2, 2012.

4 Responses to “Courage”

  1. It might seem a little simplistic but have you considered redecorating your room – reclaiming it as such I know I coat of paint cannot erase the past but it may be symbolic for a new fresh start for the healthier you to if not banish the shadows then to aleast change the place in which the dwell

  2. Welcome wishes…I am praying for you (and I like the repaint your room idea!)…xo

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