Like a heavy thick haze, she peered through the pain unable to see clearly. It weighed her down, pulling on her as if gravity had run amok. Her head felt 10 lbs heavier and it took effort just to keep it upright. Each step taken sent waves of pain into her skull. Her heartbeat kept time with the throbbing in her forehead. It felt like someone was inside with a mallet trying to slug their way out. There were times she imagined this evil little demon pounding away and wondered if maybe someday he really would break his way out.
There was no way to explain the pain she lived with. No way to give a clue as to what daily life was like from her vantage point. She’d heard a lot of “suck it up’s” and heard the almost audible eye rolls from people when she’d say she had a headache. She eventually found a way to grin through the pain and function nearly as if it wasnt a constant draw on her strength and even her humanity. But eventually it would claim her. One of the beasts would find a way to escape and she’d not be able to to function as he broke free. He’d come at her from every angle and she’d be forced to her knees, forced to bow low to his power. The beast held a skull cracker in his fist and she learned quickly to play dead so she could live to see another day.
Eventually the beast would grow tired of torturing her and he’d retreat. When he did, she’d quickly build back up her walls so he could not escape next time. But even as she added yet another layer of mortar, she knew in her gut that he’d return one unsuspecting day. He’d plow through her walls and with it bring a darkness that was so thick you could taste it.
While she lay motionless, in a half dead state, she’d will her mind to quiet, to become thoughtless. A mere fleeting thought, like the breeze of a butterfly, could cause such intense throbbing to begin that she nearly came undone. Today she willed her mind to float on a bed of soft clouds and forced all colors from her mind. Only a mindless white could still her mind and will her breathing into a still soft and slow pace.
Without moving, she began to look for the glow. It was a soft and shimmery glow, just barely seen beyond the darkness of her misery. It possessed an audible calmness. It was what would eventually envelope her like an airy fog and protect her once it covered her in it’s embrace. It was soft like a pair of wings she would rise up on under their care and power.
The guiding light always brought her back, always protected her, always chased the darkness away. She was not the daughter of darkness. She was born of the light. No matter how hard the claws of darkness fought for her, the white wings would hold them back, taking the wrath for her. She had only to lay still and allow the healing to come. For the battle was not hers to fight, but His. The battle was already won, before it even began. She had only to believe, and to look toward the light. She would rise up on wings like eagles, and the whole of her being was filled with the glory of the light.
Light would win this day, just as in every day past. And she believed, even in her haze of pain. She believed.