When Darkness Taught Me to See

The Night Everything Went Black

I still remember the exact moment the world went dark.

Not just the physical dark—the kind that creeps into a room when the power goes out—but the emotional one. The kind that settles into your chest quietly, like it has every right to stay there.

It was a Tuesday night. Nothing dramatic, nothing special. Just one of those evenings when life felt too heavy and I felt too small. I sat on my bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering when I had stopped feeling like myself.

And then—ironically, almost as if the universe wanted to underline the point—

the lights in my house flickered once and shut off completely.

Silence swallowed the room. And in that strange, unexpected darkness… something inside me shifted.

I didn’t know it then, but that blackout would become the moment my life gently, quietly began to change.

A Lesson Hidden in the Dark

At first, I panicked.

Not outwardly. I wasn’t screaming or stumbling around. But inside, it felt like the darkness outside had cracked open the darkness I’d been hiding inside myself.

For months, I’d been running—running from difficult conversations, from memories I didn’t want to face, from the voice in my head whispering that maybe I wasn’t enough.

But sitting there, with no distractions, no screens, no noise to drown out my thoughts… I had nothing left to hide behind.

So I did something simple.

Something I hadn’t done in a long time.

I breathed.

Slowly, deeply, fully.

And for the first time in weeks, maybe months… I let myself notice what I was feeling instead of pushing it away.

The room was pitch black, but somehow I felt more aware than ever. My heartbeat. The tension in my shoulders. The quiet ache in my chest I had been ignoring.

I realized something almost embarrassing:

I was tired of pretending I wasn’t hurting.

And in a strange way, the darkness felt comforting—like a soft blanket instead of something to fear.

Without light, I could finally stop performing.

Without light, I could finally be honest.

That night taught me that the darkness wasn’t my enemy.

It was my mirror.

Finding Light by Looking Inward

The power didn’t come back for hours.

During that time, I sat with myself. Really sat with myself.

I thought about the people I missed but hadn’t reached out to.

I thought about dreams I had quietly buried because they felt too big.

I thought about the version of me who used to laugh more loudly and cry more freely.

Somewhere along the way, I had dimmed my own light just to make life feel quieter.

In the darkness, I decided I didn’t want to live like that anymore.

So I grabbed a small notebook by touch alone, sat beside the window, and used the faint moonlight to write a list—not of goals, not of tasks, but of truths.

Simple truths.

“I want to feel alive again.”

“I want to stop apologizing for being myself.”

“I want to heal, even if healing scares me.”

“I want to choose me.”

The handwriting was messy, slanted, nearly impossible to read… but it was real.

That night became my reset button.

Not the day everything magically got better, but the day I finally allowed myself to try.

The Morning After

When the power finally came back on, the sudden brightness was almost harsh.

But I wasn’t the same person who had sat in the darkness hours earlier.

I felt lighter—not fixed, not perfect—but aware.

And awareness is the first spark of change.

Over the next weeks, I made quiet but meaningful choices.

I reached out to a friend I had been avoiding.

I started journaling again.

I gave myself permission to rest without guilt.

And when I felt overwhelmed, instead of distracting myself, I paused and breathed—just like I did that night.

The darkness had taught me a lesson I didn’t know I needed:

Sometimes losing the light forces you to find your own.

A Brighter Kind of Dark

I no longer fear the dark the way I used to.

Because now I understand something I learned the hard way:

Darkness isn’t always a sign that something is wrong.

Sometimes, it’s the space you need to hear yourself think.

Sometimes, it’s the pause between who you were and who you’re becoming.

Sometimes, it’s a quiet invitation to grow.

And sometimes…

darkness teaches you how to see.

Not with your eyes.

With your heart.

Conclusion: The Gift Hidden in the Shadows

If there’s one thing I hope you carry from my story, it’s this:

Your darkness doesn’t mean you’re lost.

It means you’re in the middle of finding your light.

That night changed me—not because it was dramatic, but because it slowed me down long enough to listen to myself.

Sometimes the most powerful moments in life happen in silence.

Sometimes the most important lessons come when everything goes dark.

And sometimes the darkness isn’t there to hurt you.

It’s there to guide you back to yourself.

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Thank you for reading...

Regards: Fazal Hadi