the place or state of punishment of the wicked after death
the abode of evil and condemned spirits; any place or state of torment or misery
something that causes torment or misery
In the show Lucifer, it was explained as a place where you relived your worst moment over and over again. Almost like insanity, but without the power to change.
On earth we have the power to change and move on out of our hell or insanity, but do we? Are there somethings in our life that continue to trap us and leave us feeling like there is no way out? Have we been so bad or evil that we cannot make good decisions to walk away? Or do we become so comfortable in our uncomfortablness that we are paralyzed?
My hell, yesterday, got the almighty spotlight service. It felt like every person I spoke with somehow brought up my defects. A wee bit sensitive, I began to just roll with the comments and process the truth behind each statement. At the end of my day, I was driving to a friends house, crying about socks. (Not as crazy as you may think) Then as I was leaving my last destination I was asked, why do you not just sleep here on my sofa?
Lately, I have had several friends ask me this question but until this morning I did not know the reason for my not doing so. For the last few years, I have been an escape artist. I have been working, drinking, doing, being to much, all to escape the hell inside of my mind. A couple of years ago, my body began to show signs of this self induced torture. (Yet another story).
One of the things that I call my hell at this point is feeling the fear of working again (highly stressful), having my own place, becoming an independent woman again. I am told constantly that because I have done this and that, I cannot survive on my own. Someone else’s fear being projected into my head. The trigger this morning was, had I become to independent to accept the help of others and just like staying on a friends sofa, the day ended in this same manor that it started. The conclusion is that if I continue to escape, even for a night, does this not make it easier to stay where I am? Does it not make returning to a place called home that much harder? So I sit, in a room filled with smoke and mirrors, I endure, I get angry, I get desire for better. Tested day in and day out, I fail, but I do not escape. There has to be a point where I have enough and start making decisions to get out of the mess. Small steps in fear brighten the light towards courage. Endurance to run a strong race has to begin somewhere. Perhaps today we will hear the bang.