Escaping Hell.

September 14, 2025

Escaping Hell.

I CAN FEEL MYSELF RUNNING AWAY. Please God. Help me.

I’m planning my exit, to get through the pain. Sitting on my bed, researching 'fatal overdose.' I’m plotting GP and pharmacy visits to collect enough prescriptions.
I’d have to do it on a Friday so I could be found the Monday.

I’m in hell, I know it.

I pray.

Repeatedly.

God, please save me.

I listen to and read everything that speaks to breaking free, that speaks to emerging from darkness.

I find a story about Jesus raising Lazarus from dead.

A story about Buddha facing the demon Mara. Buddha telling Mara that his love is greater than anything he could possibly do.

~~ – ~~ – ~~

I’m reading, I’m listening.

I consume content about not being lost, ‘your becoming.’ This was always the path.

That this is a cave. Gods cave. A cave of ‘transformation, of preparation, and the turning point from a running man to a king.’

That this, where I am, was always the design.

This. Brings me closer to God.

For though I’m in hell. Thou art with me.

This. Is, by far, everything I need to hear.

I read, I hear, I listen.

I hear. “Tell me about the bitterness and unforgiveness I see in your life.” Shudder. I’m in shock. How true, plain, obvious. Suddenly in plain sight.

It’s on my face.

I plea. God help me.

Help me let go of this suffering. End this suffering.

Help me Forgive myself. Help me Forgive those who hurt me.

I chant. ‘I forgive you. Please forgive me. Let us forgive each other. Let us forgive ourselves.’

I chant slowly, deliberately. Frequently.

I Forgive my mom.

I forgive my sister.
I forgive number 7. Number 1. I forgive number 3 being in my life because of co-parenting, I forgive myself for number 3. I forgive that our relationship had to end with number 2. I forgive number 4, 5 and number 6 betwixt.

I see the influence these experiences had in my becoming.

I bow.

I cut soul ties.

~~ – ~~ – ~~

I forgive

Myself.

~~ – ~~ – ~~

I read, listen.

I see people around me. I see that they were never hostile. I see that they are human, funny, kind, good, troubled, lovely, lonely, soft, scared, trying

I hear. ‘I will make all things beautiful.’

I see the ocean. Trees.
The sun.

I take walks. Long. Short ones. I cry through these walks. I speak to God. I tell him how I really feel. I tell him things I’m afraid to say.

I feel my senses awaken. My body, feelings, perception, intention, my consciousness.

I see Birds. Trees, I hear them blowing. I see hills, the sun, homes, warm smiles, guinea fowls and peacocks, I see a mini snake once. I see people, trees, animals, creatures, smiles.

Apricity.

I start doing my gratitude’s again. Nothing forced. Just the things I’m really grateful for. Like sitting and typing this, facing my fear of writing.
'I long to move forward. God. Please take my hand.'

I go on no carbs for a month. I eat fruits, veggies, meat. I go on two glasses of liquor. Not to be hyperbolic but this saves my life.

I go off adcodol & take ashwagandha.

I go on a three day fast. To change the way I speak to myself. I recite declarations. 'I am Loved.
I am Adored. I am Chosen. I am redeemed.
I am God’s. And God is mine.'

I read and listen.

I hear.
‘See clearly who it is you want to become.’ ‘What she looks like. How she speaks. What her thoughts are. Who her friends are.’

I write it down.

What she looks like. Elegant, authentic. Radiant. Herself. Beautiful.

How she speaks. She speaks fluent English. Not the broken undertone English accent, to prove that she's black. She's already black. She is black, beautiful and authentic. She speaks with clarity and sincerity. Comfortable with herself.
Speaks with kindness and truth. Discernable through her voice.

What are her thoughts. Acceptance. Compassion, especially to herself. She thinks nourishment. Purpose.

Who are her friends. Whole people. Kind. Optimistic, genuine, authentic, smart. Adore, love and choose her.
Successful. Living their purpose.

~~ – ~~ – ~~

I hear that I’m forgiven.

I arrive at the shame I carry.

shame of not being loved and chosen by my mom ashamed of not being that girl she wanted me to be ashamed of who I actually am

I’m ashamed of being me The truth that I feel this way, is unsettling.

I give the shame to the silver violet flame. To the forgiveness spirit.

I’ve always wondered why I’m drawn to lgbtqia+ movies. The story of being ashamed of who you are. Not being seen. The courage it takes to be who you are.
I cry with the story, ‘I don't want to feel ashamed of who I am anymore.’

Stories where the parents love and accept who they are, have me howling.

It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

To be given space, room, the gift of being me, as I am.

I imagine the universe with all its reflecting back and manifestations, saying

‘It’s okay’

‘B r e a t h e’

‘Be you’

‘You can be you’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, I confront the story.

My story.

God.

I’m hurt that this is the story. That this is my story!

Not feeling good enough!? I’m angry. Hurt. At You.

I hear. ‘Most of the time, when your angry at God, you are angry at yourself.’

I’m angry at myself for not being able to pick myself up. Disappointed at not actually believing in myself. Angry at all the things I left undone because I was afraid.

I’m Hurt. Hurt that something so simple, is excruciatingly arduous for me.

I weep.

I go on a hike.

On top of a hill, sit, overlooking Franschhoek, and weep.

I weep for my story.

For this life.

‘I don’t want this to be my story I don’t want my story to be about self worth I’m ashamed of this story I don’t want my story to be about a girl who didn’t believe in herself About a girl that struggles with her sense of worth. All her life. I don’t want this to be my story’

I weep.

Atop a mountain I weep.

Weep for the girl who never found peace. The girl that yearned to be loved as she was. As she is.
To be seen as enough as she is.

~ – ~ – ~

The time arrives when I ask

How do I find peace with my story.

I see Lord of The Rings.

Frodo: ‘I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened’

Gandalf: ‘So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide.
All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.’

~~ – ~~

I decide.

To give myself this gift.

room.

space.

B r e a t h e.

Be You.

You can be You.