How I'm Using Light to Fight the Darkness of the Lupus Wolf
In the darkness lies a wolf, the wolf that claims me as his own. I could call him “my wolf,” but that implies his presence is wanted, when it’s anything but. He’s present only in darkness: the loneliness of 3 a.m. when insomnia comes out to play, the isolation of being fundamentally different from those I hold closest, the ongoing struggle of life without a rule book, which I never knew to plan for.
Lupus looks for darkness: the darkness of night, the darkness of ever-present shadows and the darkness of my mind. There is no place to run, no place to hide. As light cannot be without some kind of darkness, I cannot be without lupus.
How would I describe lupus? Wicked, brilliant, cunning and patient. Together they make him deadly, and he knows it. Though he has no reason to hold such a grudge against me, this is a vendetta — a mission without a deadline.
When the world falls around me, only to bring my tears streaming down with it, lupus stands over me. “Give in!” he commands. As the sky continues to fall, he comes so very close to getting his way.
He’s hungry and restless, wanting what has been promised to him; he wants me. The thing about belonging to the dark side is there are no morals and no rules to abide by. Failure is not an option, and he’ll stop at nothing.
The daylight sends him into hiding, yet I still see that familiar shape lurking in every shadow. He lies patiently in wait for the sunset, when the world turns and relinquishes me into his clutches, to be enshrouded by nighttime, the greatest darkness of all.
This is no longer my territory. Lupus owns the night and it’s his home turf. Getting into bed, I hope I’m ready for what’s in store for me, whatever it may be. Maybe it’ll be the all-too-common insomnia attack, or perhaps a round of anxious over-thinking? If I’m really unfortunate, he’ll throw both at me at the same time, just to watch me suffer for his entertainment.
Lying awake in bed, my own thoughts attack me. I beg to understand why this was chosen for me. What I did to deserve such a fate? And his satisfied laughter rocks through me, as this is exactly what he wants from me.
There are no answers to the questions that plague me. I will never know why he chose me and not someone else. There is no logical explanation, and that unknown is a kind of darkness, too.
I live with darkness. It surrounds me and lives within my very being.
But I also live with light, as darkness cannot exist without it. And it’s that light that drives me, reassures me of my purpose and keeps me fighting. It’s the light that reminds me that not all promises are made to be kept and, though I was chosen for lupus, I don’t have to choose him.
I choose the light — the hard way, the unbeaten track and the exhausting, uphill struggle. I choose never to back down and to remind myself what I’m fighting for constantly.
Lupus has nothing to lose out of this, but I, I have everything to lose!
Inside of me is a little bit of light and, no matter how small, it alone can combat the darkness. As a little light can go a long way, it takes a mere spark to start a fire.
This post originally appeared in Kristiana Page’s column, “The Girl Who Cried Wolf,” on Lupus News Today.
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Thinkstock photo via Grandfailure.