A Conversation with My Demons

By , Bloomfield Hills, MI

Her crusade against the demons of the past, the ‘what if’s that plague her mind like swarms of gnats in the heat of summer, is a battle often lost. Rejection and Fear posed as angels descended from the heavens to lift her to salvation from the depths of despair, yet stirred up the demons in her skull.

Arrogantly, she decided to believe in Fatalism, as if she could predict her own foul end. Loneliness, anxiety, depression, and anger that would last a lifetime.

Will the road I travel by lead me straight to where I believe it will? Yes, the demons answered. Will I forever be alone and unloved? Of course, my dear, the demons answered. Will I always feel the numb tug of depression and the paralyzing anxiety that strikes me day by day?

Isn’t the answer obvious, my dear, said the demons.

 

Not wanting to be disappointed, she succumbed to take all the demons spoke as truth. Her foresight was as clear as mud after a heavy rainfall, however. Paths would reveal themselves, doors would open and close, as would windows.


Love never appeared as a blessing, but rather as a visible disease that wreaks havoc on both body and mind. Unrequited love, as it turns out, was the only love she knew.


The constant throb of lust and longing pulsed through her, as her budding sexuality forced upon her. Even more difficult, her romantic feelings would swing in both directions, leaving her confused about which label society would stick on that.


Still, coming to terms with bisexuality is a struggle she hasn’t yet had the courage to face. What horror would that stir up in her parents’ faces? Would she be made fun of, or treated differently?


Her innocent sweetness would temporarily harden and turn to bitter ash in mental breakdowns that forced her to rebuild herself into a stronger and more resilient woman. Whether her isolation was self-imposed or implemented based on silent consensus of her peers of some dark and ugly thing that lived within her, some dark and ugly thing that everyone saw in her, she would never know. Psychological beatings and cruelty were her expectations, never aberrations.

 

Why? Why? Why? Never would she answer this question: Why?


She nursed a small hope that, one day, the weak would crush the strong. Counterintuitive, but empowering.
Enlightenment came by thinking, reflecting. All the pieces would appear to come together, then fall apart with doubt and uncertainty. Then she would accept doubt and uncertainty as universal truths.


Endlessly circling back and forth from weak to strong minded, she would realize, is an illusion indicative of self-growth. Certainty of weakness and certainty of strength are fallacies, masks that we wear to hide the shifting face of what lies underneath.






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