Atonement

If I were a doctor and have to prescribe an effective way of overcoming depression, it would be this: let go.

I had read somewhere that the mind is compared to a child picking up pebbles on the sea shore. No one knows exactly which ones he picks up and keeps, and which ones he throws back to the sea.

The ironic part is that the things I'd rather forget are the ones that linger in my memory. They continue to haunt me in my most vulnerable state, in my darkest moments. It felt like masochism.

But yesterday was a rebirth. I heaved my broken self. The person I was speaking with awaited patiently for my mouth to open. But the mere thought of vocalizing my most inner self is enough to crouch my words. Tears flowed down. I began to count. Mustering all the courage, I began to create a sound in language form. He listened. He nodded in agreement. I enumerated. I let go.

Drops of water continued to wet my face. When I finished, he uttered the statement he prepared I guess. The most wonderful part of peeling my skin off is that in his presence, I sensed no prejudice. Not a trace of judgment was apparent on his humble face. He harked like it was the solution to everything. He smiled. Then he forgave. His license to forgive is my passport to self-acceptance.

I grabbed two more tissue papers, stood up, and as I turned the knob to leave his office, I felt my old self detaching. I have been renewed. The deepest, unspoken part of me has been revealed, and the new me steps out of the office unscathed. Letting go is a beautiful thing. It prepares one to collect oneself and be whole again.

When Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon, it was a glorious leap for mankind. My stepping on his office is a liberating leap on a new world for me. A world surrounded by divine love. A world of replenished soul. It is an exultant step for a new beginning. And, yeah, I'm gonna wave my flag proudly and plant it confidently. Because I came, I saw, I surrendered, and I conquered myself, all at the same time. And I've been triumphant.