Ashes to Enchantment

This week we asked you to write a piece about something ugly – and finding the beauty in it.

The first thing that popped into my head after reading this prompt is something I’ve been processing a lot, lately. There is a lot of ugly in my past. It just so happens that I had therapy today, before reading this prompt, so some of that “ugly” is front and center in my mind. I don’t want to get into specifics but thinking about that ugly and how to find the beauty in it had me considering the case of the “human struggle”.

If we think about it, ugly is everywhere. All of us struggle with “ugly”. Perhaps ugly is a perception of ourselves that we have. Maybe it’s something someone said to us. Maybe it’s where we come from or a tragedy that we have suffered or are suffering through. In my world, ugly was a pattern of abuse that began long before I was even conceived.

Child abuse, in it’s many forms, is one of the ugliest things in the world. It spreads, like a disease, from generation to generation. It’s often cultural, so that the people perpetuating the cycle don’t even realize that they’re being abusive. As such, the disease spreads not just from one generation to the next, but from one family to the next.

Try as I might, there is no beauty to be found in abuse itself. It’s just plain ugly, often twisted in nature and confusing as hell for those who suffer it. Child abuse warps the mind of the person being hurt to the point where thinking clearly can be difficult or even impossible. Fear becomes the underlying concern of all of the decisions that he or she makes, most often without being recognized as such. As a result the cycle is perpetuated; the hurting child grows up to be a hurting adult who abuses themselves and the people around them.

The human struggle looks ugly at first glance. We can all relate to it, no matter where we come from. Often times the struggle to find ourselves and to grow is painful and bloody. Tears are shed, fists are pounded in frustration and teeth are gritted in rage as we struggle towards our goals. The journey, though, can produce some amazing results.

It is no different for those who become aware of the vicious cycle of abuse and choose to bring it to an end in their own lives. I was abused in many ways as a child. As an adult I can see that much of it was never intended as such and I can live with that- there are no perfect human beings and all of us make terrible mistakes that affect those around us. Some of it was certainly not excusable but I’ve learned that I cannot allow it to define me. I’ve begun taking what was handed to me and learning from it. The ability to take away something beautiful out of pure ugliness is part of what makes us human, I think. In my opinion, it’s things like that which teach us who we are and give us strength. I am who I am right now because of who I was back then.

This entire chain of thought brings to mind the legend of the Phoenix. Out of the ashes of it’s burnt, ruined body, it rises again, renewed, young and ever wiser. The utter destruction of it’s former self brings forth something of unparallelled beauty, something enchanting. The power of the Phoenix is something I believe we all contain within us and if this ability isn’t beautiful, I don’t know what is.