Little acts of bravery
Every day this week, thus far, I have opened the curtains in every room. You would be right in thinking this is a metaphor for letting the light in. It is similar to polishing ageing ornaments or dusting away the cobwebs.
Whenever Dee arrives, I hide. I close every curtain, put my car in the garage, lock the door and only turn on the lights if I need them. It’s an atmosphere to wallow in because at the time, wallowing and staying in are the only two things which feel safe. Darkness because a comfort and sadness feels familiar. Dee makes me feel a myriad of emotions and experiencing them often feels like spinning inside a kaleidoscope. One of the most dangerous of these is the sense of safety. The overwhelming sense disappearing into yourself is a securer path than attempting to live the way you deserve to.
It has taken me two weeks to open my curtains on consecutive days and not be afraid. I do not fear the weather outside or the light. In fact, I love the way my home looks bathed in mild, winter sunshine. I’m afraid of lifting myself out of this recent bout. Dee feels safe; recovery doesn’t. Allowing myself the opportunity to take steps toward feeling better, is frightening. Opening the curtains may seem a simple act but for me it is a show of defiance; a steady step out of my comfort zone.
Small steps such as this are especially difficult because I am yet to accept I deserve to feel better. I take these steps out of necessity; to ease peoples’ worries, to keep my job, to prove I am trying to the people who may think I’m not. I try for others rather than myself but it does mean I am trying. I’m rarely consistent but I have opened my curtains every day of the week, thus far.
Hopefully, one day, little acts like that will feel safe.
© Kristiana Reed 2019