You are not welcome, none of you are. Yet you barge in and roam about to your heart’s content, disrupting the contents of my heart.
Regret dashes in first, stirring up a slight breeze. Regret over not saying more, not choosing to do more, not living in the moment more. Why didn’t you just do it? How sure are you that you will be able to do that again in the future? What’s holding you back? Regret over saying too much, saying the wrong thing, choosing to do too much. Why did you do that? What will people think of you now?
Flipping and tipping over everything that you’ve placed nicely, becoming more aggressive as no answer is received. Determined on holding your attention captive until you can justify your answers to those questions. You fumble and scramble as you try to come up with something to reassure yourself. Nothing seems right, everything falls short of satisfactory. What exactly is the right answer? How will you be able to explain anything adequately enough to reclaim the peace that was wrenched out of your hands?
Next comes anxiety. It creeps in as silent as a mouse. Although it tiptoes about warily without a sound, its presence weighs down the room. The wind grows chillier and loose pieces begin to blow off. It pokes around the broken pieces, with pure intentions to help clean up the mess. Unfortunately the mind cannot always believe what it wants to achieve. As soon as the shattered pieces are picked up in its raw hands, a thousand voices whisper instructions into your ears, threatening to overthrow your entire self. I wish I could listen to everything and nothing. Not knowing what to do, the unrectified pieces fall back to the ground and you just want to curl up in the corner to block out the voices.
They are relentless, pounding down upon you and throwing you into the pit of turmoil. You try to shut them down but they thrive upon your fear. They begin to feed made up stories into your mind, growing so loud and multiplying with every passing second that you’re forced to believe them. Your mind hungers for more despite the distress it brings, and imagines the worst, thinking that it prepares you for heartbreak.
Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.
Confusion hears anxiety calling its name and wanders in, frowning at the disarray. All at once, it tries to make sense of what has happened and offers contradictory explanations. Why bother trying to explain what you don’t understand? With its added presence, the house begins to crumble and crash internally. The wind picks up its speed.
Impatience has joined the crowd, catalyzing everything else. Regret screams the same questions in a louder voice. Anxiety shakes and cries quietly. Confusion stumbles blindly, and anguished cries from different corners of the house drown each other out. At this point nobody knows who anybody is. All they care about is mending the chaos, which has melted down into your chest and squeezed a tiny knot into existence.
On the outside, the house seems peaceful and in order. Its calm facade deceives anyone who doesn’t stay long enough to earn the owner’s trust for the door to open just a crack, to allow fractions of the tornado that has built up and is mercilessly tearing every single thing the heart was once sure of apart, to seep through.
People say, heal what hurt you so you don’t bleed on people who try to love you. But how can you heal from the same place you hurt? Can a donkey rest its head on the same thorn bush that injured it? A drowning fish desperately cries out for a saviour.
As the unrest grows overwhelming and the house sways close to bursting, an innocent lamb trots in. He takes one quick glance at the mayhem and raises a gentle hoof.
I am weak but He is strong.
The only voice that matters belongs to the One who has given you His peace.
Though I walk through the darkest valley I will fear no evil for You are with me.
Immediately, everything disappears in a puff of smoke. As the smoke clears, peace fills the space once again and your body relaxes. The entire house heaves a sigh of relief. The knot loosens and your head clears.
How wonderful it would be if it could remain this way forever. But as long as your lungs breathe, your heart beats, and your mind wanders, they will return. The voices will present themselves to be so real, almost tangible. They will conquer your mind like Alexander the Great and wring every last bit of happiness from you like dementors sucking your soul. As long as you tread upon this earth, they will never leave you alone.
But I have Him. And He is the voice that matters the most.