The Doom and the Glory of Truth and Destruction in Our Lives
“What happened…” I repeat back in my head. A bomb ripped through my life. My ears are still ringing from the blast. All I can hear is the beating of my heart and every time I inhale, exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Dust and debris are raining down all around me. I know I’m bleeding and badly wounded. Agony and Fear are my companions now. I look them in the eye, and I snarl even though right now, I can’t fight. I’m hurt. Instinct tells me to keep moving, and so I get up and I keep moving. And here I am being burdened with the expectation that I explain myself, deconstruct the blast and carry on a coherent conversation while in a state of shock.
“How much time do you have?” I want to quip. Deflecting with humor is my go-to. I know people mean well. I’m grateful for their concern. But it doesn’t stop or slow the acid that is churning away, slowly burning a hole in my chest. Nor does it justify putting me in that position. Here, let me comfort you as I slowly bleed out. No, I have to get up. I have to keep moving.
“I always thought you were single and that you lived alone.”
“Yea…I knew that I was. But he didn’t.”
At this point, I don’t have much to say about it. I’m comfortable with and indifferent to the judgement and crazy conclusions people will arrive at, especially those on the outside looking in. My inner circle knew what my intentions were. The events that played out were well over a year in the making. What I do have to say, I’ll share at a later time. What I have to say now is within the scope of how from the time we are very young (especially among women) we are taught to not trust our own voice, to not believe that we know what is best for ourselves, to design our lives to be an audition, a popularity contest with fast rules and fatal finishes. We have the world at our fingertips through our smart phones but we have zero personal sovereignty.
We are taught our whole lives to close our eyes to who we are, to deny our truth, to be ashamed of and cover up the very parts of us that make us who we are with something more palatable for the masses. Over time, we build palaces and monuments to these lies and half-truths, even if deep down, we hate them because we know better. The truth has been whispering to us all along. But the walls we have built over the years are thick, fortified with insecurity and reinforced by fear. Tearing down these shrines to bullshit and palaces to conciliation will be no small feat. This is not a typical demolition. Nothing here can be salvaged. The only path forward is total annihilation; to raze what was built and begin anew.
The truth will never stay buried, nor will she tolerate being denied for long. She comes with explosives, eyes bloodshot with rage. But she does not kill indiscriminately. She is a trained assassin. The demon that holds you up against a wall by the throat will not be alive for much longer. It is in the aftermath that we see the carnage of the lies and poisonous figures laid to waste. On the surface, she brings destruction, but the truth is, she is setting you free.
It was the words of Dickens that pulled me back from the ledge when I was in my mid-20s, despondent, depressed and out of hope. His words reached out to me from across time to convince me to keep going. And so this is why I speak my truth, not to call attention to myself but rather in hope that my words will reach out and convince someone else to keep living, too. Because your rise, my Beloved, will be such a sight to behold. Your rise from the ashes will be the reign of terror and strike fear in the heart of every weak, foolish animal that has ever tried to bury you.