Estella’s Song 

I wrote this as part of my mother’s eulogy in 2015. And while it was written primarily about and for her, it speaks to the struggle, despair, and triumph of anyone who has suffered from anxiety and depression.

Estella’s Song

Falling, falling, faster and faster.

With the fear ever increasing the faster I fall.

Tumbling and turning, bouncing off of the rocky walls of the black cave that is swallowing me whole.

Terrified.

Guilt-ridden.

What did I do to deserve this?

Surely there is something that I am being punished for to explain this miserable circumstance and fate?

How far might I fall?

Please let it resolve to be better… or worse.

If I am intended to crash and die at the bottom of this dark hole, then so be it.

Falling is more terrifying than death.

Will someone or something help me? Please?

I feel as though I cannot help myself, for if I could I would end this misery. 

“Help me” I scream, like a child in the night for their mother. But no one comes.

But wait.

Who is this scared little child who fears that she is dying but does not die?

I am no longer falling but have not hit the bottom of this dark hell.

I look up but cannot see any light.

I look down and cannot see the bottom.

I am grateful to know which way is up even though I haven’t a clue as to how to pull myself out of the darkness.

I resolve to begin climbing the cave wall, clawing and clinging, pulling and grabbing at whatever I can grasp.

Progress is made but only with tremendous effort. I am exhausted and sometimes feel like I can’t go on.

Something deep within me tells me to continue, and I listen. At the same time, something deep within me tells me that this is too hard. 

While climbing toward an imaginary light, a light I can only imagine but cannot see, I begin to gain some momentum.

By no means am I climbing out of this darkness easily. It continues to be difficult and trying, but I know that I must continue.

I begin to see a faint light. Is this possible? I have been struggling for so long in the darkness with only the faintest of hope that I can save myself. Is this an illusion? Wishful thinking? Why can’t I get “there”? Why must there be such distance between this darkness and the light?

These thoughts overwhelm, me and I slip down deeper into the darkness. The momentum of my descent picks up speed.

STOP! I say out of desperation.

And I stop. I am taken aback … I said “Stop,” and I stopped.

I begin climbing back toward the direction of the light, only this time I climb with more strength and resolve than ever before.

Not only do I make it to my previous level, but I manage to climb past it at a pace that had not been previously possible. Fatigue and self-doubt manage to creep into this newfound resolve but don’t have the impact they once held in undermining my ascent.

True, these doubts continue to be a weight on my back as I climb out of the darkness, but I still climb.

For months and years, I am climbing without looking up. It is a struggle without much reward. I know I am moving in the right direction, but the sides of the cave walls are sharp and occasionally smooth.

For years it seemed that only the sharp and brittle rocks of the cave were all that I had to hold onto.

I choose without choosing to not look up for fear that I may not be as close to the light as I once thought I was.

The cave seems darker than before.

“Wait a minute,” I say. “How can this be?” I know which direction is up and which is down. I have been moving and climbing at least in the right direction

Why can’t I see any light?

At that precise moment, I realize that I have had my eyes closed.

I open them and find that I am at the top of the cave, the hole, this hell that I have lived for too many years.

I sit at the edge of the cave basking in the light, but still I sit with my legs dangling over the edge, almost fearful of leaving the certainty of the cave, this pit. 

I retain some fear of letting the fear go.

I do know that I am out of this hole.

I know that I must trust myself to leave it behind.

I managed to climb out of the darkness despite all of the hardship and toil.

I sought to fight and live even when it seemed impossible.

I now find pride inside myself when I look back at this journey.

When I was in the deepest darkness of the cave I looked inside of myself and couldn’t find anything of value. In fact, I resisted even looking, for fear that any value I might find would be false and a figment of the imagination or the fulfillment of some need to feel something other than fear, pain, guilt, and shame for having failed myself and those I love the most.

Now when I examine what is inside I still find traces of doubt and insecurity, but I also find wisdom and comfort that was not possible before.

I know that my life has been a series of tumbles into that dark cave.

Throughout my life, I have had to overcome setbacks and obstacles and I have always persevered.

I have come to realize that I deserve to be as happy and as successful as I choose to be.

Our lives often reflect the choices we made – some good and others less so. 

However, good and bad are simply a contrast within the consciousness that acknowledges the opposites to begin with. Forgiveness can be found in that space of awareness. Therefore, asking God or another to bestow this upon you is akin to looking for help externally from the cave YOU are stuck in. Only YOU can climb out of the cave. 

Yes, only YOU have the power to change your circumstances. You heal yourself when you take action contrary to the circumstance that you wish to change.

And when you do this, and accept that YOU have the power to be that which you are and always have been – whole and without need – you will be healed.

And she is healed.

I love you, Mom.