This little light of mine…

People think that because I made the choice to leave that it’s what I wanted to do.

No part of me wanted that.

I didn’t have a choice. 
Because to stay would have ended me.
Dramatic as that sounds, it’s truth. 

I self abandoned so hard that I lost the whole point of what I was even living for. I became careless to my own needs in return for a false promise. I pushed until I had nothing in me to move. I felt until I couldn’t feel no more. I adjusted in ways that numbed instead of nourished. I believed deception over truth.

Until it all hit me square in the face, so fucking hard that I had no choice but to pry my eyes open.

I had chosen sickness and pain. But I had chosen wrong. 

Because the true me isn’t meant to stay stuck, let alone descent. If I don’t have growth, I don’t have purpose. I am meant to rise. And where I was headed was down the bottomless pit. 

What comes after depression? I’m pretty sure I don’t need to answer that one for you. 

That scared me enough to start removing myself from all the things that didn’t feel right. The habits, the mindset, the man. 

The man. 

The man who, in my experience, chose deception over truth.
The man who, to me, felt like he chose to numb instead of nourish.
The man who appeared to chose not to feel.

I guess in a way, we both chose the same things.
But I broke free. 

A lot of what I was carrying, wasn’t even mine. It was a perpetuated pattern that both of us feed off of.

That’s the thing about being committed to a dynamic that is committed to the shadows. Eventually you have to abandon your light to exist in the darkness.

I’m too bright to live there.