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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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Sarah Harvey

Sarah Harvey resides in the mysterious mountains of western North Carolina. Through the journey of healing her own trauma and pain, she has found power in poetry, art, and dance. She loves supporting people to step into their power, find their voices, and flourish. She believes in resilience. She believes that sometimes, our darkest days lead to the most unexpected, breathless joy. She currently offers life coaching sessions and is pursuing her Masters in Counseling. She feels passionate about supporting sensitive souls with a grounded, creative, and gentle approach.  Follow Sarah on Facebook and her website!