I had no map, my compass was shattered and worst of all, I did not call for help.
My voice was muted, a pitchy broken croak.
I did not want to ask for help. In my mind it was not okay to be not okay.
So I stood in the woods alone with the clouds of my own making, my own mind, gathering overhead.
I waited, I wallowed, I laid down in the dark and cried frozen tears.
I let someone else rescue me, let others decipher that I was not okay.
I was passive in my recovery for a long time.
My own steps towards the sun came later, when I grew stronger.
I learned to avoid the darkness, to light my own torch when midnight threatened.
Eventually I knew the truth, that the light came from inside me. I was my own torch.
I was the candle. I was the bushel. Some days I was both.
I controlled how brightly I shone on the world.
Most importantly I discovered how to be authentic to myself.
What to do on days when I was not okay.
That it was okay to ask for help.
That it is okay to be not okay.
So today, when I am blind sided by something in my life, when rain is threatening and my torch flickers in the wind I don't abandon myself like I did in the woods that day.
I look for the stars through the clouds. I hold that torch in the lee of the wind and protect it with all my heart.
I call for help.
Because today I am not okay, and that is okay.
Tomorrow will be better.