When the Moon Forgot to Rise

The night the moon forgot to rise, I felt something shift inside me.

It sounds dramatic, I know.

But sometimes life gives you moments that feel unreal—moments that pull you out of your routine and force you to look at yourself in a way you’ve been avoiding.

That night, staring at a sky that should’ve held a soft silver glow, I realized how much I’d been depending on things outside myself to feel okay.

Light from the moon.

Light from other people.

Light from anything but me.

But when the moon didn’t show up, I finally had to sit in the dark and listen to my own heart.

A Sky Without Its Light

I’ve always loved the moon.

Its quiet beauty.

Its calm presence.

Its soft reminder that even in darkness, something still shines.

Every night, during some of the hardest years of my life, I found comfort in stepping outside, lifting my head, and seeing that silver curve above me. It felt like a silent friend—someone who didn’t need to speak to understand.

Then one evening, everything changed.

I walked outside expecting to feel that familiar peace… but the sky was empty.

No moon.

No glow.

Just darkness stretching from one horizon to the other.

It was strange how quickly the panic rose in me.

Why tonight?

Why now, when I felt so lost already?

Why did even the moon leave me?

I stood in my backyard feeling small, confused, and honestly… a little abandoned.

It wasn’t just about the moon.

It was about all the things I had been losing—relationships, confidence, direction, the version of myself I used to love.

The missing moon became the symbol for everything I no longer knew how to hold on to.

The Night That Taught Me to See Differently

I stayed outside for a long time that night.

At first, I kept hoping the moon was just late.

Maybe a cloud was hiding it.

Maybe I wasn’t standing at the right angle.

Maybe if I waited long enough, the sky would open and the familiar light would return.

But nothing changed.

The darkness stayed.

And that’s when something inside me softened.

For the first time, instead of wishing for the light to come back,

I let myself sit with the dark.

I took a slow breath.

Then another.

And in that stillness, I heard a voice inside me I hadn’t heard in a long time—

my own.

It said, “You’ve been waiting for things outside of you to lift you up. But maybe the light you’re searching for is supposed to come from within.”

It was a simple realization, but it shook me.

I’d been depending on others to fill emotional spaces I didn’t want to fill myself.

I relied on people to comfort me, situations to go my way, signs from the universe to tell me I was okay.

But the truth?

I never stopped to ask myself what I could give to me.

That night, in a sky without a moon, I learned something powerful:

Sometimes light disappears so you can remember you carry your own.

A New Kind of Rising

When I woke up the next morning, something felt different.

Not magically fixed—just different.

Calmer.

Grounded.

Like I had finally stopped running from myself.

The next few days, I made small changes.

I talked to myself kindly for the first time in ages.

I stopped apologizing for needing rest.

I stopped chasing people who walked away easily.

I stopped treating my own feelings like burdens.

I even went outside again the following night—not to look for the moon, but simply to breathe and remind myself that I existed, with or without the sky’s approval.

And then, a night later… there it was.

The moon.

Soft.

Round.

Unbothered.

Shining like it had never disappeared.

I could’ve cried from relief.

But I didn’t.

Because this time, I saw it differently.

The moon hadn’t abandoned me.

It hadn’t forgotten me.

It simply taught me something I desperately needed to learn:

Even when the moon forgets to rise, you don’t disappear.

Your light doesn’t vanish.

Your worth doesn’t dim.

You can glow from the inside.

You always could.

What I Carry With Me Now

Life hasn’t magically become perfect since that night.

I still have moments of confusion, heartbreak, fear, and doubt.

But I no longer panic when something or someone I relied on goes quiet or distant.

I no longer fall apart when the world doesn’t glow the way I expected.

And I no longer wait for the moon—

literal or metaphorical—

to show up before I feel whole.

Now, I remind myself:

If a night arrives without the moon,

I can be the light.

I can rise.

I can shine from wherever I stand.

And just like that, the darkness doesn’t scare me anymore.

Because I learned something unforgettable on the night the moon forgot to rise:

Sometimes the universe turns the lights off

so you can learn how bright you really are.

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Thank you for reading...

Regards: Fazal Hadi