Exploring the Darkness Within

I grew up nose in a fairy tales book, a little girl who wanted to be a princess. I disliked the scary stories like Little red Riding Hood and Hansel and Gretel. The dark woods frightened me. As I grew up, I found myself there, an anorexic perfectionist deep in the forest.

It took me a long time to understand the role of the darkness in my life. This a series of questions are me unpacking the darkness.

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Is darkness external? Or does it live inside?

Shades and shadows, mist and mystery?

Starry nights with stars that whisper silent promises?

The comfort of a freshly laundered bed, curtain billowing softly?

A pitch black space, dense and impenetrable?

Would it encase me like a womb with its soothing heartbeat? Or frighten me?

Would I lose my way? Would I fall into myself, swallowed by the voracious appetite of the unknown?

My senses scream; what do I hear, feel or taste?

there is yelling everywhere, what, what …?

Am I willing to listen? Or am I already running away, superimposing treacle on pain?

Is the emotional landscape the home of darkness?

What is the darkness?

Is it composed of those shameful thoughts that remain un-uttered?

I know my darkness is there but can I reach into to it? Can I bear to touch it?

Do I have the courage to own it?

Is it safe? Is all that negativity safe? Or is it contagious?

I know I’m unique but is the darkness universal?

Is pain and smallness and worthlessness universal?

Can I be with these hurts?

Here now, can I?

What do they need from me?

Do I have the courage to look at those things, I’ve neglected so long?

Is my darkness a cascade of unmet needs crying to be heard, seen and honoured?


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