October 15, 2025
There are quotes you read and nod at, and then there are quotes that hit like a mirror.
This one by Mary Oliver is the second kind.
When I first came across it, I thought it was poetic but abstract. A “box full of darkness”? Sounded like the kind of thing you’d find in a metaphor store next to jars of bottled sorrow and used regret. But as time went on, that line stopped being poetry and started feeling like a memory.
Because here’s the truth: everyone eventually gets their own box.
Mine showed up during my 30s. A decade wrapped in anxiety, loneliness, and the kind of self-medication that doesn’t heal anything, just numbs everything. The wrapping paper looked a lot like failure. Failed relationships, failed expectations, and plenty of failed nights of pretending I was fine.
But somewhere inside that darkness, I learned a few things about myself that I never could have discovered in the light. I learned that pain forces honesty. It strips away the nice stories you tell yourself and leaves you face to face with who you really are. That’s not fun, but it’s real. And real is where healing begins.
Darkness also has a strange way of slowing you down. When you can’t see five steps ahead, you start paying attention to the next one. You stop sprinting toward some imagined version of happiness and start noticing what’s right in front of you, the people who stayed, the quiet moments that didn’t demand anything, the small victories that didn’t make headlines.
It took me years to understand that my own box of darkness wasn’t punishment. It was permission, to rebuild, to reimagine, to finally see myself without the glare of pretending.
I wouldn’t want to relive it, but I also wouldn’t give it back.
Because sometimes the best gifts don’t look like gifts until long after you’ve unwrapped them.
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