Grow

I look at the crushed bricks scattered on the grass. I remember the time before these walls even existed. It was a long, long time ago. I remember I was free and wild. I believed I had the whole world to myself, and enjoyed the freedom I had to think and question everything and anything that I was told. Life was perfect. But as I got older, the bricks started coming.

One by one, they slowly built the walls. My freedom was being severely limited every time a new brick was added, and I remember I wasn’t happy about it; but tearing them down only gave me a deep sense of dread. I was told horror stories about those who had done that, and they never ended in something good.

“Maybe it’s better if they stay,” I always told myself. “I might be physically limited, but at least my mind is not.”

But eventually, the bricks started screaming. Being physically limited wasn’t enough. They demanded I surrender my thinking and reasoning skills without questioning them, or else the consequences would cost me my life.

“But why should I even listen to you just because you said so? That’s not logical.”

“Listen, you mortal,” the bricks implored, “this is not about logic. Your tiny brain will never be able to understand it because that’s the way things are. Now, you either listen, or you’ll burn alive and so will all those you care about!”

And so with that they took my mind. They handed me pages penned with the most inspiring books ever known to man. Books that talked about someone so incredible to be true. Books that taught moral lessons, stories of brave warriors and kings, and even stories that revealed the not so good parts of humanity and what the bricks were telling me. The bricks claimed it was the truth and the only truth only, and it wasn’t to ever be questioned, or else the threats would pour out of their mouths. All the BS told to me was to be twisted somehow to fit the narrative, and that’s what I did. And that’s what I believed wholeheartedly for most of my life. But deep inside of me, my true self was deeply bothered by this, and sometimes questions without answers arose.

“Why doesn’t it make sense?” I’d asked them once innocently.

But their faces twisted into the most terrifyingly evil frown possible the moment those words left my lips. “Because it is extreme! It won’t ever make sense because it is extreme, so stop making it make sense! It never will!!”

“But if it doesn’t make sense, then how do you know it’s true?” I asked in between tears.

“Shut up and repent for your thought crime, or else you’ll see!”

Every once in a while I would see the vines of free thought grow, and every time I cut them back. It physically and mentally hurt me to do that, but it kept me safe. Hurting, but safe. I forget when, but at some point the words created chains around me. Chains so strong and scarring that even when the walls started crumbling, I still stood there, trapped in the same area I’d been put into. I knew I could leave, but it was too scary (and being honest, it still is). I stood trapped in a place I knew didn’t help me in any way, and I paid the price for it.

I stuck there because I saw all those around me were in the same place, but for some reason they weren’t suffering and wrestling with it like I was. Was I doing something wrong? Maybe those beautifully penned books the bricks gave me were right, and I was indeed broken and flawed. The person they wanted me to be was the total opposite of who I truly have always been. The person under the mask is exactly what they label as broken. Maybe that’s why I was suffering, and I just had to fake it till I made it.

However, everything has its breaking point, and I reached mine. I couldn’t ignore what my eyes were seeing and what my ears were hearing anymore, at least not without my mental health worsening. I had to make a choice, and I chose the road less traveled by. When the vines came back again, I let them grow and consume my chains. And with the vines came the wilderness I had when I was a child. And so did the wonder and the curiosity and the non-conformity and the creativity and the free thought I’d been taught from a young age to cut back. Suddenly the world seemed to come back to life, and I felt like I could breathe once more. I was free. I am free.

The road out was lonely and painful at first, but I slowly realized I wasn’t alone. I’m definitely not the only one on this road. It still hurts, but the pain is more manageable as every day passes. Sometimes I wonder if life would have been better had I never been trapped there, but then I remember that I wouldn’t be who I am today without it. I learned a lot, and I’ve grown as a person. I still have more growing and breaking and healing left to do, but I’ll go at my own pace. No need to rush. There’s a beauty in growth and letting go of old beliefs that’s hard to describe to those who’ve never experienced it. That beauty makes it worth it.

From the many lessons I’ve learned, one sticks out to me: you don’t need to have all the answers, and nor does anyone else. Anyone who claims to have all the answers is lying, and you should run away. You don’t know what you don’t know yet. That doesn’t mean you’re not responsible for your actions, but rather you should learn from your mistakes and grow as a person. Stay curious and be kind to everyone!