Why I am doing this part 4.
And when I say darkness, I mean pitch black. The sun set at 4, and isn’t coming up until 10 am. It’s 2:30 in the morning. I slept for about 2 hours, poorly. If I manage to stitch together 2 more hours, I’ll be lucky. That shade of dark. Not sleeping is its own form of brutality. A lot of people have advice. “Consistency” is a favored them. How about this: I consistently cannot sleep, thanks!
Irrespective of all of that, there is light. It might be kind of hazy. It may be awfully distant. But there are moments when I get a glimpse. And those moments, those instantiations of the divine, as my college mentor might say, have to be enough.
Let me put it this way, it may well be damned dark and I just broke my toe stubbing it on the coffee table but pain is in itself light. A reminder that you are here (thank you, Jenny Lawson). Light in the darkness can bring its own form of pain. Like when it’s a gorgeous sunny day and I walk outside and instantly get the worst head pain that makes me wince and feel pukey.
Light, in my reality, does not equate to joy. But whether I feel better or worse for it, the point is at least I feel. I am not yet totally numb and dumb and over it. I have something to fight on about. And I do fight on.