Well, I'm feeling poetic, so here goes. The story you are about to read is true.

I recently went through a breakup -- actually it happened six months ago, but I recently processed it -- and for some reason, I pulled a lot of lessons from this one. I realized that my basic problems stemmed from abandonment issues. I won't tell my life story here, but trust me, if I did, you would say, yeah, that oughta do it. When I realized what was going on, I was elated at first. Having named the demon, I imagined he would soon be my slave. Then I had four or five days of unstable mood due to the outpouring of emotion, wherein I felt I couldn't trust my own judgment. I had realization after realization. Something had been trying to kill me for 25 years. Something had been telling me that I was unloveable and that my love was worthless. Something had been telling me that finding a loving relationship was vastly more important than taking care of myself, and at the same time, that same something was crippling my ability to have such a relationship. Something had been telling me that, no matter what I did, I was doomed and I might as well give up. I have named that Something: I have named the demon, and he is Abandonment.

I am not out of the demon's grasp just yet, and I have a lot of work left to do. I feel the demon rumbling and threatening in my chest, and at night he whispers in my ear. But I do know now that the demon lies. He lies, and you know it and I know it. We are all loveable, and all our love is valuable. We are not doomed, and we are strong enough to live and love again. None of this is our fault, but it is our challenge to deal with it once we have named the demon. We just need to value ourselves enough that we do not need someone else to save us.

We need to learn to believe that our love is a thing worth having, a bird with a beautiful song to sing, and we need to learn to lend it wisely and completely to people who appreciate it and care for it; and if for some reason they find that they no longer need it, then we can call it home and nurse it back to health. And when it can fly again, we will let it free to fly where it will. One day, surely, it will find a home, however many flights it takes. The bird will always be able to fly, because we will learn how to care for it and mend its wings and make it whole again.

I promise you I will defeat the demon, and I will learn how to mend the wings of my love.

Meanwhile, I have written a poem. I do not claim to be a great poet, but I kind of like this one, and I hope it means something to somebody:

The Shadow People
The lucky ones in the sunshine always
fear the shadow people
(whom they need not fear, but cannot understand)
who grew up under rocks in the darkness,
cold and alone,
calling and calling, crying, shivering,
waiting for the love;
or else waiting for the return of the love
that had once meant sunlight and warmth.
But the sun went down and did not return,
despite the waiting and the vigilance to the east;
and any moon there might have been could never match its brightness.
And while one born in the dark might walk in daylight,
as if she were feeling the sun,
it can never penetrate to her heart:
how very long the night can be
in the black sky of your soul
can only be told to you
by the shadow people.
(Don?t fear us.)