Rebirth

Rebirth

Would it be ironic to relate my rebirth to the great fire bird of lore, the Phoenix? Some may consider the fact of my awakening depressing, insightful, inspiring, or even cliché, though this has no real relevance to the topic I am addressing. Yes, the truth is the tragedy I went through on October 20, 2004 when my home of almost sixteen years burned to the ground, but as time has gone on I have witnessed a change in myself from that day to the present time of which I write this. Rebirth comes to those who truly need the salvation; a new start from a tragic day that shaped one's life. I am not looking for pity as I write this; in fact, I want this to be an inspiration for those who have had a heartbreak of any sort in which they need to recover. Benevolence will only cause the victim to continue thinking about what happened which can not allow the individual to move on. Recovery is the first step, and in some cases you take any help in any form you possibly can.
I stood there with my parents and friends staring at the charred wood and cedar ashes that were all that was left of a mill-turned-house of which areas were over 100 years old. Memories flew through my mind like electricity; the black of the scorched house acting symbolically as the beginning of the black entering my heart. The pool parties we used to have after baseball season, the nights playing outside with my brother and his friends, the many video games I sat in the theater conquering, the sound of the cicadas calling out in the yard near dusk on those warm summer nights; none of that would ever be lived again. I could not help but think about how my life had suddenly converted from one so care free to one of darkness, devastation, and destruction. The Phoenix had died, and the rebirth had begun.
In my first waking hours I remember seeing the world totally new; the earth was not the sanctuary from evil that I had once witnessed the blue planet as. "Oh that could never happen to me," was the ignorant mindset I had maintained my entire life. This new life began and I was worried about everything, from relationships to physical problems as slight as unplugging something when I left a room to go away. I always heard that "God does everything for a reason," and I believed them. However, I got to the point where I could not see any reason why God had taken the life I loved away from me, though now I have the greatest reason one could ever hope for. As I began to open my eyes to see the new life in a new light, I noticed that the light was darker than ever before. Malicious thoughts permeated my very being, making me wonder if my existence here was worth living any longer.
Our temporary house became the place I could step in and feel all the hate from what had happened. The place was not home and those walls never could be. The black I had noticed the first day after the fire had invaded my heart and I knew that I would never be the same person. I had begun on the road to my awakening, to the time when that Phoenix would burn passionately throughout me as the flames once had. This road was not the one most traveled however; if the path had been then there would be people going through with the same experience. As lonely as the time was, perseverance was the thing that kept me sane and pushing forward.
Since I was always a loner by nature, I turned to any form of relief I could, and more times than not that was some dark form of music or thought. Certain bands became my best friends, and the very thought of a sharp object and what I could do with the blade terrified me. For about six months this went on and I really had no one to turn to, no one I felt alright talking to, and no one to comfort me. I did not want pity, nor do I want pity now. I simply want people who go through similar experiences, whether physically, mentally, or emotionally, to know that they are not alone in the stress and wear that is brought on by an event such as this one.
The vital part of my recovery was just reassuring myself of the fact that everything would be alright. I had thoughts all the time that I would never be happy again; I would never feel that joy I had once felt. At times I felt like that would last forever and I remember that every time I was doing something I enjoyed, the thought was felt in the back of my mind and suddenly my conscience would pull the memory forward to make everything go back to the depressed state as before. For a while, as I said, I thought this would never end. My problem, however, was that I was not giving the healing process enough time, nor did I have anyone there to tell my ideas to.
Finally, after a long six months of two new rental houses and a move into our lake house, I settled down here where I live now on the water. Simply from not giving up, I have come to the happiest point in my life, and I look back on the whole experience knowing that I pushed through everything, and though I made some mistakes and did some dumb things, I am a better person now. My Phoenix finally rose again, and I can feel that he is burning brighter than ever before.