I had no issue performing on a stage in middle and high school.
Unaware of the neurological diagnosis suggested when I was four and five-years-old, I lacked a shy filter, just as I did a social GPS. I developed them through experiences and social observations during college when, over a long period of time, I lost a desire to perform or be around people too often.
I learned to play a role. In the neurodivergent language, we call it masking. I shut down sections of my personality, and attempted to tailor my reactions to the person whom I was around. I still do it.
When I was in middle school, our nearby university had an arts’ program for which students could audition. If accepted, students went to the drawing, photography, music, or drama program for three weeks during the summer. One of the drama courses I took involved stage lighting.
We learned how to blend different colors of stage lights to represent heaven and hell. The reds and darker colors gave off a harsher tone, but I recall the light violet, yellow and white of the lights of heaven.
Not to get too Shakespearean in metaphors, those bright colors emphasized light, and the kind of person I wanted to become.
There are a few people sprinkled in the world, who will view me as a villain or less than. But as the quote goes:
I maybe the villain in your story, but I am the hero in mine.
With time, you accept the opinions you cannot and will not change. But what you can do is look inside and out at the light you project. It is not for the satisfaction or praise of others that you do this, but your mental health and personal accomplishment.
Just as we experience our personal seasons, we’ll develop ways to either overcome or surrender. To be clear, we aren’t weak if we surrender in times of turmoil, but we have to find something to escape darkness.
As a greater awareness for mental health increases around the world, it makes us better citizens, humans, or someone who can shine those bright lights.
These is enough angst and bad news. There is enough anger and animosity in grudges or contempt. I’ve experienced or witnessed enough animosity to last a lifetime. While I still cry in some hard moments or from triggers, I’m determined to become undefeated by any dark force.
Corrie, our beloved daughter, would have make my handkerchief into a cape.
She would have me project those bright lights of violet, yellow, and white. She would have me forgive those without understanding, others and myself. Corrie would embrace the best of life.
Be a person who inspires the light or shine on others when they cannot.
I hope my writing, gardening and other actions will show a story about overcoming darkness. I hope it will inspire to discover light when all others go out.
I have many imperfections. The struggle and darkness still come, especially through nightmares. But I had to find a way to survive and then thrive for my son and family because there are many years ahead of me.
The nine gardens,—reflecting Corrie’s age and large, medium, and island— gave me back my life. I was alive, but in another world. When Corrie died, the person I was before also died. I lost a friend or two in the process, as is common for bereaved parents.
It’s a tough road to travel, and the path is made of rocks and mountains.
It is why I hope to shine a light, but I will also quickly remove myself from a situation or person if the situation isn’t right. Life is too short. It’s better to offer light where I can.
Corrie’s memorial gardens offered self-therapy, a hope to inspire others and give back when and where I could. Interest grew in expanding pollinator gardens for the bees, hummingbirds and butterflies.
There is something about coming up with a plan. Learn more about a subject which keeps us motivated when we can’t see light. My daughter loved gardens, flowers and plants, so I started there.
By R.A. Bridges
Corrie's Season 