It may come in different forms, and often we do not know how or why it has happened. It sneaks in like a thief in the night and tears away our sense of rightness and reason in the world. Suddenly, our universe is altered. Misery replaces joy, grasping it so tight it is squeezed within an inch of its life. We are at the mercy then of our reckless feelings, which tear at the fabric of our heart and soul and leave jagged lines and gapes which were never meant to be there.
The loss of happiness can leave us confounded, stunned as though we have been caught in blinding headlights. Life begins to move in slow motion, and our sluggish movements are semblance to walking in quicksand. Try as we might, we cannot feel past the pain that soon engulfs us.
But at some point, we accept the unthinkable and are confronted with the reality of what has befallen us. We see the point ahead where we know the pain shall subside; though we are locked in a cage of confusion, mistrust and loathing. Loathing becomes how we cope. If we throw our energy into anger, there is little time left for suffering and self pity.
Perhaps in this time, a small stitch is made to mend a tear to our heart. Hope is not yet within reach, but it is visible on the horizon.
After our anger comes complacency: a dull medicine which numbs the emotion and brings us to a standstill. We reach a crossroads of sorts, a place where we can choose to better ourselves and move on, or choose to become indifferent to our predicament, or choose to falter and wallow in our misery.
This mountain looms in front of us. We are conflicted on all fronts. We know that to move on means to risk happiness again. We know that by risking happiness we may have it stolen again unawares. We know that while our thoughts are at war with themselves, our heart is also warring with the possibility of being broken again. Gradually, the mountain, in all its enormity, melds to something akin to a hill.
At this point, we invite acceptance into our mind. It may not reach our heart straight away, but it lingers in our tissues, softening the jagged edges and smoothing the frayed tears. It brings with it clarity - often in short bursts of knowledge about ourselves or the situation. Our blinded eyes are opened to the truth that 'maybe things will be alright again'. Once clarity revitalizes us, it gives way to hope.
Finally, we are at that horizon. The place where some hurts are forgotten, many are forgiven and others are given peace. While we, at first, feel as though our fragile bodies will flee in terror at any given moment, we stay because there is promise. There is the promise of a better day ahead; perhaps a challenge for our souls to endure, despite the torrent of abuse that was laid upon us. We are given the opportunity to start again.
It is no small step - for our memory becomes a ghost, designed to haunt the recesses of our hearts. But it begets the choice to move forward onto something better. Hope is our platform to live and love again. If we reach this stage, whether in months or years or minutes, then we have cause to try. A reflection inward would reveal healed hurts and mended tears.
We are wiser because of our scars, and stronger because we survived the unhappiness. We see the dawn of joy again - its promise beckons us and we move toward it, a renewed pace in our steps and a lightness in our hearts.