When she was young, she had dreams. In her dreams, she was hardworking, successful, and organized.
In her reality, she was at the bottom of the totem pole. Unknown, she was shoved back down at every attempt to reach up, and get out.
With a lot of effort, she began a slow climb from up out of the shadows. Each rung of the ladder presented its own unique challenge; a new battle with herself to decide if this was high enough, or if she should continue ascending to another level.
At times, she felt melancholy. Consumed by the voices of negativity that welled up from deep within her. Like zombies in a pit, they grabbed at her feet to bring her back down into that place, the place where everyone reminded her she wasn’t worthy, she wasn’t good enough, and she didn’t know how.
Those times were the hardest for her. The nothingness swept through her mind, clouded her spirit and drained the life from her usually bright eyes. The battle raged on within, while those around her seemed to slowly back away, as if they felt it drawing them in, too.
Still, she fought on. She held on tightly to the small rays of light that filtered in through the darkness. She prayed. She knew, ultimately, that she would win this battle, just as she’d won those before, because the hand she reaches up to, the hand that is always reaching down to her, would be within her grasp soon.
In the dark, she closes her eyes and sees where she wants to be. Where she knows she’s meant to be. She can feel warmth on her face, and as she opens her eyes she feels a sense of peace rush over her as she’s lifted from that place again.