The rays of the morning sun piercing through the curtains of my bedroom window wake me from the only state from which I truly find solace. Every morning, before getting out of bed, I take a couple of minutes to contemplate my life and all that I have become. My mind always gets lost in the typhoon of details that ravage through my head, and to bring myself back to the reality I so dread being apart of, I take a deep breath, and as I exhale I say to myself the words which have morphed into my life’s mantra; I’M OK.
Even though my life is currently what one might describe as a mess, it hasn’t always been this way. The dark cloud of hopelessness, helplessness and pain that constantly hovers above my life and shuts out the light – that brings with it joy and happiness – only came over my life immediately after my mother’s passing. Granted, I have always known that non of us humans – no matter what faith we align to or what God we believe in – have ever quenched our thirst for immortality and drank from the fountain of life, and I have always known that one day death will knock on her door and she will have no other choice but to answer, but I never knew that no matter how well versed I though I was in the language of the hereafter, nothing could have prepared me for what her death would eventually mean for me.
Her death came like a thief in the night and robbed me of all the joy and happiness she brought me, it made me understand the true meaning of loneliness and turned the small number of the little over 7 billion souls wondering the face of the earth that I interact with into faceless beings from which I can no longer draw similarities with myself. Her death was the beginning of the end for me and I have spent the last couple of years lost in the deep void it left behind, trying to find a way out, only to find myself having traveled deeper and deeper into its dark pits – from which many have tried to help me escape and I have responded to with words I have said so many times I am actually starting to believe; I’M OK.
I now spend my days wondering the dark allies of my mind – which I know only lead to the lonely end which is depression, and I have become so accustomed to them that I have developed a fear of getting out. I fear getting out because I don’t know if anyone will understand my fears, my loneliness, my helplessness and my hopelessness. I fear getting out because this is only place I believe myself when I say I’M OK.
Loneliness was for a long time a very scary place for me, but after years of its acquaintance, it has now become a part of me, and I a part of it, that neither of us can avoid. And the valleys through which I have spent years walking, and on which death has cast its cold shadow, have become a regular part of my life. But through all of the darkness, the helplessness, the pain, the hopelessness and the loneliness, I wake up every morning and do all that I can to convince myself, and hopefully all those around me, that I’M OK.
My soul yearns for a way out of the darkness, for happiness and joy, but the more I fight the deeper the darkness sucks me in. A million hands reach out to me with the intention of pulling me out of the wreckage caused by the insecurity fueled typhoon that plagues my life, but I’ve lost hope in their intentions and choose to ignore them because I have been let down too many times before. But through the darkness and all that comes with it, I find comfort in words that, even though they have kept me locked in a constant state of darkness, have also shielded me from many things; I’M OK.
Even though I am constantly withdrawn to myself and shut from the rest of the world, even though I wallow in a mire of helplessness and despair, even though I live in pity of myself for living in a world so dark and cold, and even though I spend my days brooding over my helplessness and the senselessness of the unbroken cycle of pain and suffering searing my mind and sapping my strength day after day, I find comfort in silently reminding myself, and those around me, that I’M OK.
I constantly ask myself if life would ever change for me but my sensitivity to the world – left behind by the emotional torment caused by my mother’s passing – caused my mind to soak in all the world’s suffering like a sponge soaking brackish water. Though my mind seems saturated and my being enervated, my soul clings to the hope of a better tomorrow solidified by my conviction of being OK – no matter how superfluous to other people it may be.