Light blue powder so faint it looked white, carefully placed in delicate lines waiting to be inhaled. A rolled up dollar bill in the hand of the man I thought I loved. Shocked eyes, wide open, surprised that the door had opened and suddenly exposed a hidden hobby and addiction. A loud slam as the door closed so quickly I could feel the draft of air grace my face as it shut.
I don’t remember the words shouted from the other side of that bathroom door, for once it shut my world collapsed and reality no longer existed. I’d just unknowingly walked into a situation, a life, and a person I knew nothing about. Though the exact words in response to my finding have faded, the sentiment never did.
It’s nothing. It’s not what it looks like. You didn’t see what you thought you saw. It’s fine. I’m fine. This is nothing.
Odd how I suddenly resonated with the very thing that would eventually destroy my marriage and an entire life and soul. The crumbled up residue of crushed pain pills had never felt so much like the resemblance of my heart and my future.
Crushed. Reduced to pieces so tiny they’d never have hope of being collected or rejoined.
Small. Tiny. Broken.
Dust.
In an instant everything was different.
I would do my best to reclaim normalcy, to regain the person before the destruction, to rebuild the life that crumbled. In the end, those tiny specks of dust proved to be more powerful than nearly everything that crossed their path. A person gone. A marriage lost. Lives dissipated and restructured, separately. A family as broken and crushed as the remnants of smashed prescription pills and bad decisions.
Life as I knew it had been reduced to dust, crushed and broken, but you can build beautiful things from dust. Just like you can rise from ashes, you can rebuild with the dust, the debri, and the remains. When reduced to tiny specks you get to carefully choose which pieces to rebuild with and which pieces to leave behind. You craft the dust to suit you, not the world, not expectations, but the desires and wishes of your heart and soul.
A long time ago I was reduced to dust, tiny specks of destruction by someone else’s debilitating choices and it led to the most beautiful masterpiece. It led to this, the me of now, the life of now. Beauty from the dust, risen from the ashes, and stronger than ever.
Never forget, you can build beautiful things from dust. I’m proof.
