Another Trip Into the Darkness

My skeletons don’t reside in a closet, and my demons are not forcefully tucked away in the dark corners of a metaphorical basement. Much like the heart I wear on my sleeve, the internal monsters roam freely in all the spaces of my mind. I do not deny their existence, and I know each one of them by name. I have become familiar with my darkness. I am learning to appreciate it as much as I do my light.

It wasn’t always like this for me. Although I have always been pretty aware of the things that went bump in the dark parts of my thoughts, I spent a majority of my life stuffing them away. I resorted to hiding them, and even made a few attempts at throwing them out. I have learned that this only angers them, makes them louder. It makes them fight harder for my attention. It wasn’t until I realized that any attempt to remove these figurative creatures was only an attack on myself. Afterall, they are a part of me. My Demons were sculpted from the battered parts of my heart and soul. Denying their existence only made me deny myself of the parts within me I needed to face; the parts I needed to heal.

A few years ago, I finally gave in. When nothing else worked, when I could not reach the light at the end of the tunnel, when I could not climb out of that dark hole that consumed me; I turned around and faced the darkness staring back at me. With trembling knees, I held their gaze. I dropped my sword at their feet and layed down my armor. Every attempt to defeat them had failed. I exhausted every attempt at running from them. Yet, as I waved my white flag, they refused to budge. When I finally gave them the opportunity to consume me, they quietly motioned me to an empty seat at their table full of darkness.

Fast forward a few years later and I found myself sipping wine at that table again. This time, however, it was like I was visiting old friends. We reminisced and we caught up on lost time. We laughed, we cried, then we got down to the real issue; why I had ended up back there. What new demon was it that I had to face? What did I need to discover and resolve? As I let those demons ask all the hard questions, my mind dug up old testimonies and old photographs, as we tried to maneuver our way through the next upcoming void. It was then I noticed the metaphorical basement door to my consciousness had been shut tight.

After my first visit into the depths of my own Hell, I left that door open. My demons were free to roam as they pleased. When I accepted that I subconsciously created them to protect myself, I befriended each one of them. As a result, they continued to guide me through the darkness. So, why was it closed now? Clearly there was something I had still not faced. Perhaps a new challenge unlocked from the newest trivials. Maybe, it was a darkness I was refusing to face. It seemed this one was buried so deep that even the others were afraid of her. Maybe as they took on their roles as my guardians, they shielded me from the potential destruction this new Demon could cause.

As I approached that door, I looked back at my team. Panic and concern plagued their faces, but they never let me down before, and I knew they would not that time either. I watched as each one of my past experiences, trials won, battles fought, and tribulations overcome, stood from their seats. It was time to re-open that door.

As the door creaked open, the stairs down into the dark were empty and cold. I knew that I was going to have to go back down there and pull her out, whatever she was. I was going to have to face her in her own territory, away from the light.

One by one we filed down those stairs. At first, we crowded at the bottom, waiting for our eyes to adjust to the darkest of the dark. With me stood Fear, Anger, Anxiety, Sadness, Abandonment, Codependency, Hyper-Independence, Resentful, and Suspicion. They were all there. I had faced each one of them, and learned to accept them. So, who was missing? What core wound was I ignoring or not acknowledging that was bringing me back here?

As those demons and I explored the stacked, web covered boxes, we searched for any clues that would bring us to her. We replayed past traumas, uncovered old wounds, rummaged through broken pieces of my heart, and replayed old painful memories. Each clue we discovered, we put together into a neat pile. When there was nothing left to investigate, we returned to the pile and analyzed each piece of information. As we put the puzzle together, I caught a glimpse of movement in the darkest corner of that basement. She was there, waiting for us to put together the final pieces so we could finally call out her name. So we could move beyond the dark and bring her to the light. Invite her to sit with us at that table so she could be the next one to expose the deepest parts of her pain, my pain.

When she saw us staring she stepped closer to us and reached her daunting hand into the pile. She dug in deep and slowly pulled out a clock. She stood up and handed it to me. She motioned for me to turn the clock over. Even in the dark, I could make out the word, “Choices.” As the tears swelled in my eyes I realized who she was. I handed the clock back to her and I called out her name, “Guilt.”

We left the cold, quiet, dark basement. We sat with Guilt at the table, poured her a glass of her favorite drink, and we talked about letting go. Letting go of choices made, letting go of the negative feelings that were acquired from those choices, and we begin to accept the outcomes. We let go of expectations, should haves, could haves and embraced the present. We discussed how the journey led us to love ourselves and each other. How it taught us to make more conscientious decisions and how it made us strong, and so very brave. We comforted Guilt by acknowledging how the decisions were what we thought we needed at the moment.

As we continued our conversation with our newest member, Guilt reminded me there are others down in the darkness. She helped me accept that I will continue to uncover parts of myself that I may not want to face or bring to the light. I looked over at the door to make sure it was open, and then we put “get more chairs,” on our list of things to do.