Shimmering Muse

The Journey Within!

Fracture, Scars, and Bloom:

I believed I understood love’s every curve and corner, having devoured words endlessly and written about them fervently. Yet, as life unfolded with twists and turns, in its raw honesty, it revealed an uncomfortable realization—Love and I never truly crossed paths, leaving us strangers. Would we ever?

To Love and Desire, these are the primal pulses of being human. To drown in desire and love’s embrace were the very rhythms of life, and I danced to them with aching intensity. Yet, in my pursuit, I carved a path of passionate obsession, silencing the echoes in my head and leaving behind a trail of crumbled strength— Would these desires paint me as flawed, or do they whisper a truth I’ve yet to comprehend?

The fear of losing those I love, the terror of letting go is rooted deep in my experience of loss. Those who have walked the desolate path know its chilling truth and what it cost us. It consumes life, tainting everything gray—a constant echo that everyone and everything we love will fade eventually. We have no control; nothing stays. Until then, we can only strive to make our short stint on Earth as pleasant as possible —In the end, everything transforms into memories and stories.

Taking an honest look at my own role in this despair unlocked the door to self-compassion. The shackles of self-judgment melted away, replaced by the gentle acceptance of the choices I made to endure the storm. Nothing can minimize my pain or dictate my despair. I refuse environments or voices that invalidate me. No justification can mend the cracks in my soul, nor can grief be dictated —No one can hold the pen to my grief or the key to minimize my pain.

I recognize many versions coexist within me. I no longer condemn myself for choices made in the crucible of hardship; they are integral to my story. I honor my truth by accepting each aspect of my personality, allowing each to thrive—embracing the scars that would allow me to tell stories and the full spectrum of emotions.

Healing! I’ve learned, is a fickle beast. Just when I believe the wounds have healed, a wave of panic and anxiety crashes down out of nowhere. No one truly understands the depths of grief, even when they whisper holding me close, ‘I feel you.’ The only comfort I find is in the presence of those who allow me to feel it all, to process it my way— without judgment or forced positivity.

I hope for a glimmer of hope, but sometimes even the strongest voices can be drowned out by the weight of loss. I’m in the cycle of hope and despair, experiencing a whirlwind of emotions. When I’m sinking, I pick myself up, inch by inch returning to routine, finding light and contentment. Yet, at times, I also feel like it’s all for nothing because it always comes back. What’s the point if it always comes back?

Finally, it feels like, I’m ready to surrender my pursuit for answers. For far too long, I chased fleeting lights in the desert of denial. It was a desperate attempt to outrun the storm raging within to ignore the trauma that gnawed at my soul. I covered it up with band-aids of a new sensation, burying myself in temporary fixes that only prolonged the pain —Trauma Ignored is a pain prolonged, a truth I was finally forced to confront.

As I confront my grief, everything shifts – my interactions, my perspective, and even the way I see light and shadow. There are moments of unbridled joy and laughter, then there are moments of silence deeper than fallen leaves. I’m numb, unable to feel anything, and everything around me seems different because the void inside me throbs—Grief has taught me love with a fierce urgency with a depth that colors everything with vibrancy and compels forgiveness before the thought can even form.

We are all just a group of individuals, each grappling with our own share of misery, finding our ways to keep moving forward. Some carry heavier burdens than others, some find forgiveness easier than others. Grudges weigh us down, but for those in deep pain, unforgiveness is an even heavier yoke— I choose to forgive. Not just others, but also myself.

Situations played vital roles in my suffering. Ultimately, my suffering led to my awakening and became my spiritual guide, keeping my soul cleansed. While I’m still swinging between the cycles of hope and despair, I feel too empty to let go of this routine cycle I was clinging to. I’m allowing myself to revel in this emptiness —I suppose this period of emptiness is needed for my soul’s evolution.

In the labyrinth of my profound emotions during the grief journey, I uncovered previously unknown parts of myself long buried beneath layers of experiences. This journey has taught me the delicate balance between vulnerability and stability. It’s a path paved with honesty, vulnerability, and self-forgiveness. I hope it leads me, and anyone else walking a similar path, towards a future filled with love — not just the imagined kind, but the real, raw, and beautiful love that resides within each of us.

As the curtain closes on another year, I step into the new one with all my heart, though it’s fragile, that holds agile memories, to create more cherished moments along the way (those are the stories waiting to be told here). Hence, I refuse to let regrets keep me on pause. I choose to refresh and press play.

As I accept and forgive myself, grieving no longer breaks my heart. Only the cherished moments that I chose to save in my memory. These memories now only bring smiles.

In the quiet corners of my memory and imagination, everything seems better and shines brighter.