Feeling the warmth of the sunlight on my skin as we walked hand in hand along the river, leaning into each other to whisper the words that are blossoming in our hearts, I noticed my fears subsiding. It was then that I realised that the Hydra that I have been fighting isn’t some big, bad monster attacking me, but that it is merely my own anxiety. Could it be that it was there for a reason? I decided to drop my sword the next time it would show up and invite it in for a cup of tea. “Please sit down,” I said, “now, tell me, why are you here? Where have you come from and what is it that you wish to tell me?” We talked about the experiences we have lived through together and I listened to all of her worries for some distant future, and after a while, I began to understand. I took her in my arms and held her tight. After I let her go, I gently told her that we are going on this grand adventure and I would like very much for her to join me and remind me that I am not to be naive, but strong and confident.

Why is it that when the story ends, we begin to feel all of it? Beautiful words from The Sun and Her Flowers by Rupi Kaur. I have found them to be true. It is only now, upon the beginning of a new story, that I feel the entirety of everything that has gone before. Each night I battle monsters from my past showing up in my dreams, trying to reclaim the land that they have lost. “You are not welcome here,” I yell to them over and over again, “I want you to get out of my life!” What should be the easiest thing to accept, a love that is healthy and nourishing, quickly becomes overrun with fear and anxieties. My angst tells me that I should look for the nearest exit-sign, before the unicorn gets a change to change his colours. Like my own Lernaean Hydra, it grows two heads for every one that I chop off. I get so tired sometimes that I just want to lie down and give up. But I refuse to be trapped by the past, so I reach for my sword again and again and hope to God that one day to find a piece of firebrand.