Sometimes we feel that things could not possibly get any worse.
Dark clouds gather from every direction, and nothing is as it should be.
Lately, I have felt constantly bombarded by darkness. Tears have become part of my everyday life.
And yet, despite the black tunnel I am undoubtedly walking through, I also experience moments of peace.
Extremes.
On one side, pain and fear. On the other, the awareness that before something can be built, something else must first fall apart. That after the storm, the sun returns.
Today, I live more from minute to minute than from day to day.
But it is within those minutes that small flashes of trust begin to appear — a sense that all of this has a deeper meaning. That it is happening for my highest good.
This is not about pretending that everything is bright and beautiful when the reality feels dark and silent.
It is about holding myself through it all.
Allowing myself to learn how to walk in the dark, to fall, and to rise again.
To be there for myself with a torch in my hand.
And when I cannot manage a torch, then even a lighter will do.
To give myself as much flame and light as I can in that moment.
But to give it.
To myself.
To give myself… myself.