Sanctuary

   For some of us, the world is covered in a cloud of poison. It started in my mind. A thick fog of confusion, uncertainty, and doubt. I had feelings that I wasn’t prepared for, thoughts that were never explained to me. The fog persisted until I found a name for it, and learned there were others like me. I could see clearly for the first time. I thought the miasma had cleared for good.

But it was only the beginning.

I made the unfortunate mistake of telling the world what I was. Some played it off as nothing, some as a phase, others? The poison that had swirled in my mind now spewed forth from their mouths, their eyes, even their bodies. Suddenly I was viewed differently. The cloud that once lived in my head was free. The miasma became thick, palpable, and existed wherever I went. It came from friends, family, and strangers alike. Even if they didn’t know me, it poured out of their eyes like a coiling snake. They knew. They all knew. I could feel their hate.

So I hid.

I stayed alone, out of the public eye. Anytime I went out I’d have to pretend to be someone else, just so I could breathe. At home I’d have to retreat to my room. My family was supportive enough, but it hurt to be an embarrassment, and I could see the poison coming from them too. It wasn’t as thick, but it was there. My room was safe. At least for a while. When things became bad, though, I could see it seeping through the cracks in my door and window. It poured out of every screen. It engulfed me, making sure I had nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

More than once, I almost gave up.

But then, something I didn’t expect. A message. One of acceptance, one telling me I’d be safe. A friend, someone like me. They could see the poison too. They knew how to hide from it, and how to push it away. We became close, sharing our spaces that were safe from the miasma. Our homes became each other’s Sanctuary. It wasn’t perfect, but being able to breathe was a start.

Then I found another, and another.

Soon there were a handful. Friends, all who could see the poison, even if they weren’t the ones breathing it. We helped each other navigate the fog. When we stood together, the stares, the words, the actions that created those poisonous clouds were pushed back by laughter and acceptance. For once things started to feel… clear. I understood who I was, and helped them understand who they were.

That’s when I learned about the colours.

There were more of us than I ever imagined. They ranged from waving flags to wearing subtle pins, but they were there. First the rainbow, then all the others that followed. Now, when I went out on my own, I could see them. These sentinels. These people, allies, friends, who acted as their own Sanctuaries. Without a word they let me know I wasn’t alone. No longer did I put on a mask when I left home, but instead wore a smile.

I was finally me.

This didn’t stop the poison by any means. Those stares, words, actions, they were still there, but they weren’t all that was there. One, ten, one hundred of them could stare their venomous daggers at me, but it didn’t matter. As long as there was one in the hundred wearing the colours, I knew I wasn’t fighting alone. My confidence grew. Now that I could stand tall, I had to make a change.

So I started wearing the colours.

Sometimes bold, sometimes subtle. What matters is that they were visible. I know anyone out there, struggling to breathe through the thick fog, will be searching diligently for them. The same way I did. I hope that even one person sees them and understands they’re not alone. If I can give someone one more breath, keep them from suffocating like I almost had, it would be worth it.

If you’re ever afraid to be yourself because it doesn’t feel safe, look for the colours. Know that you’re not alone.

That your life is worth living.

And if you need a space to breathe, find us.

We will be

Your Sanctuary