in the face of new beginnings, i often divert my gaze. i can’t bear to look it in the eyes for fear of what i might see staring back. will it be pain? more pain than i’ve felt for the past three hundred and sixty five days? will it be fear? will i finally break and become the shadow of who i once was? but worst of all, will i see hope staring back at me with wide eyes and an alluring shine, coaxing me to hold on to the edge of the cliff because maybe, just maybe, i’ll get the strength i need to pull myself back over the edge. maybe, just maybe, this year i’ll see green grass instead of the mountain cliff’s dark gaze. maybe, just maybe, i’ll stay in this land of hope and make believe.
and that scares me.
but see, i often forget, new beginnings also mean the possibility of letting go. of staring pain right back in the eyes and moving it out of my sight. of letting the scars and wounds burn right before healing takes them away. of feeling pain without letting it control me. letting go also means facing my fears. and allowing myself to feel fear. and instead of forgetting about the fears, instead of shoving them under the covers, i could little by little force them into the light and work on them, shape them into something less scary, so they will no longer hang over me like a shadow but be worn like a badge of valor.
letting go means falling off the cliff and discovering what lies below. it may be a trampoline, waiting for me to take the leap to take me somewhere over the clouds where i’ve never been. reminding me that hope is not about hanging on but letting go and hoping that where i’m going is better than where i was.
and maybe, just maybe, i’ll smile in the face of new beginnings.