i ran.
and i ran and ran and ran.
the driving feeling that manifested physically beat inside me repeatedly until i acted on it.
i constantly wanted to run away.
runrunrunrunrunrunrun.
the feeling i had, which i interpreted as a need, was constant.
and yet even when i acted on it, even when i did run in some form or another, arriving never eased the command.
it didn’t let up.
“you still need to run” something inside of me would say.
“you have to escape”
“you don’t belong here”
wandering flushes a glory that fades with arrival.
and arrive i did.
over and over.
i sought, i found, i repeated.
nothing was easing the restlessness and sadness inside of me.
until one day i couldn’t run anymore.
i changed my avoidance tactics and found a new form of escape.
i checked out.
it was fall.
i remember because the leaves on the ground around me were brown. prickly. scratching through my clothes to get to my skin.
a sensation i probably recall mostly in retrospect as at the time i was determined to feel as little as possible— if nothing at all.
nothingness was the goal.
“Leney…. Leney talk to me...”
they were always there during these episodes.
they were the one person i felt safe enough to do this with.
the only person i told the majority of what it was i was going through and as such, in my mind, they’d been deemed safe.
but perhaps the reason for my catatonia episodes around them wasn’t simply because they were the one who knew the most.
perhaps i was testing them.
seeing if they could handle the darkness that was fighting to envelop me.
seeing if they would try to save me.
if they could save me.
i wanted to be saved.
but it wasn’t until they gave up trying that i realized no one could be my savior.
no one except for the one who already was, is, and has been all along.
i haven’t had that feeling in almost three years now.
a realization that came to me only recently.
it’s been so long since i ran -ran to runaway- that i’d almost forgotten i used to feel so.
i wrote the above in November.
it’s part of a story i’ve been wanting to share, wanting to tell more people about.
but i’ve held that desire with hesitation and caution.
not sure if it was the right time.
not sure if there would be negative feedback from sharing something that once was such a huge part of me.
once.
for it was several years ago now.
but now, i’ve been feeling the darkness of that time inching back towards the middle of me.
no longer on the outskirts, no longer outside of the lines and realm of my person.
it’s inching in, recoloring the lines and make-up of me.
but i am fighting it.
i crave intimacy and vulnerability from like-minded souls.
from their art, voices, time spent and day-to-day lives: however that translates.
but i realized that i cannot ask of others what i am not willing to give myself.
when thinking back on that time i realize i didn’t feel close to people because i didn’t feel close to myself.
i was joyless because i had a misplaced sense of joy.
i attempted to put it into things and people unable to hold it in the first place— ill equipped to carry, to nurture, to be the base and grounding of me.
but i recognize now that the ground that is able to hold me is the one that i came from.
the one that was made by The Creator of all ground.
and that grounding, that saving that i so fervently sought, could only come from Him.
i’m sharing this about myself, i’m sharing this story, not because i want you to perceive me as a troubled artist, a wild and wayward wanderess, a deep and introspective individual or a warrior who’s fought a hard battle, but because i believe i went through what i did for a reason.
to deepen and strengthen my character and sense of self-sureness: yes.
but also because i know there have been so many words voiced, experiences shared, confessions given, and admonishings made from others that have helped me get into-through-and-out of so many hard times in my life.
and if mine can in any any any way do that for someone else, even on a small scale, than i want to honor myself, my experience and my one Holy God in that.
because i went through such darkness, despair, and inner struggle.
and if you’re there, if you’re in a dark place right now, so much so that you’re having a hard time seeing anything anymore at all, i want you to hang on because there’s still light.
there’s still a little prick of it shining-glowing-beckoning from the end of the tunnel.
and you have everything in you already that you need to start working your way towards it.
you can’t do it alone.
you need to be okay with asking for help.
but the start?
the first few steps of making your way in that direction?
that’s all you.
start walking.
there's level ground just ahead.
//
And I will lead the blind
in a way that they do not know,
in paths that they have not known
I will guide them.
I will turn the darkness before them into light,
the rough places into level ground.
These are the things I do,
and I do not forsake them.
—Isaiah 42:16
Every valley shall be lifted up,
and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
and the rough places a plain.
—Isaiah 40:4
Teach me to do your will,
for you are my God!
Let your good Spirit lead me
on level ground!
—Psalm 143:10
But as for me, I shall walk in my integrity;
redeem me, and be gracious to me.
My foot stands on level ground;
in the great assembly I will bless the Lord.
—Psalm 26:11-12