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July 9, 2015

The Sweet Pain of Freedom.

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I stand on the jagged edge of fear, tears in my eyes, terror in my heart.

The moonlight shines down in thick, silky beams, lighting my way as I stumble and stutter and falter.

I know it’s time.

I resist.

Cowering, my legs tell me to run. My hands tell me to hide. My mind tells me I’m not ready.

Panicked as sh*t, I try to back away from this painful, uncertain darkness—but I can’t.

My skin itches all over, telling me it’s time to let go.

It’s time to move on.

It’s time to step into something new.

Just as I cannot stop the wind from blowing, I cannot stop growth or change—no matter how painful or f*cked up it seems.

My soul needs it.

So, I get out of the way and surrender.

Suddenly, my heart chokes on the past, coughing up seashells of pain and abuse and spiky layers of unexpressed feelings.

I cling so hard, so desperately, to what once was.

Sad memories and mistakes and incredibly beautiful moments slip through my fingertips like scratchy grains of sand.

I passionately kiss the past goodbye—it’s a painful parting, with salty tears and anger and a red-hot longing.

But, this kiss sets off a volcanic eruption in my soul.

I lose my sh*t. I explode.

Collapsing onto the muddy ground, I shatter into a million pieces of glittering, painful possibility.

The earth holds me gently in the murky depths of my vulnerability as a high-pitched, sobbing scream escapes my mouth.

I howl to the moon like a lost wolf; my breath becomes fire.

I become wild again.

Shaking madly, I somehow manage to untangle the rusty shackles that have kept me chained in place for all these years.

Slowly, I put one foot in front of the other.

I’m free.

This freedom is not pretty or shiny or fun; it’s hard-earned. It hurts.

This is my freedom.

Sweet, painful, delicious; as nourishing as a ripe mango.

Eagerly, I crouch down in a field of golden grass and bite into this succulent soul-food as my mouth drips with inspiration and nervous excitement.

With sticky fingers, I begin to find my wings.

They’re throbbing, aching, begging to fly, thirsting to soar.

Falcon-like feathers span from my shoulder blades to my fingertips, and I sit there, stunned by their purely magical beauty.

Could I be worthy of such powerful wings?

“Yes,” whispers the moon, softly.

I cry because I believe her.

Smiling slightly through my tears, I spread my wings and fly into outer space, spinning through pixie dust galaxies, landing happily on icy-cold Pluto.

I kiss stardust and lick the sun, dancing past anyplace where time exists at all.

I fly over turquoise seas in Tahiti and see crowded, busy, beautifully dirty streets in New York City.

I fly wherever the wind tells me; wherever my heart pushes me.

I’m free.

I’m wildfire.

I’m a tender-hearted wolf with wings.

I’m ready to live.

I will soar.

No one can stop me…

Not even myself.

 

Relephant Read:

How I took the Leap and Found my Freedom.

 

Author: Sarah Harvey

Editor: Catherine Monkman

Photo: Shutterstock

 

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