• Mathura Hawley


I have grown up over these past couple of years, and I have been shoved up over the clouds by the shock of my life being questioned."

When I awaken each day, I reach out and touch Luke. For the last two years, I also feel what is missing around me, something taken, someone gone, that I am in a place that is not where I am supposed to be. A leftover. An illusion. Less than where I should be for the effort I have made, or down another road I clearly did not take on my own. It is a fast race of images and feelings, part of a mourning period. There has been overlapping of these experiences in my recent life, so the wounds are unhealed, the focus remains out, and the lamp that should be brighter in my room has a throw over it, casting a slight shadow. I am not sure anyone else could fully understand what we go through except ourselves. I have written about it, tried to describe it to friends and sometimes strangers, and have cried about it, laughed about it and even buried it nicely in a night out or in a moment with someone handsome. The deception by and loss of one you loved enough to marry is immensely painful, scraping the deepest parts of the fragile issues of stability and trust. Leaving your first hospital stay with the news that your time on earth may be reduced to a few years, robs you of the lingering entitlement of your youth, even if you turn that news on its head. Falling for someone again too quickly and unexpectedly closes you down; Losing your job, even knowing the bigger corporate reasons, makes you question yourself and undermines your confidence. Finally, feeling for the first time the actual physiological terror of a creature about to be harmed in a dangerous situation where your every move determines your survival, strips away the basic innocence of your own safety, your surroundings, and the potential dark side of our world. But I am not looking for sympathy. Not anymore. I have grown up over these past couple of years, and I have been shoved up over the clouds by the shock of my life being questioned. These 24 months have been excruciating and often unbearable. But I did bear them. And no, I am not the same person. And that is the point. I was given these experiences because I earned them by getting through a lifetime of others, and I needed to go through them to go forward. Am I happy I went through them? Well, no. But yes. Because as I prepare to go on to my next adventure, I do so with an encyclopedia of insight created by so much sweat, so many tears, so many questions and so much pain. In between all of that, I had some laughs and sealed some friendships. People fell out, people came back. The ones that come back are always the ones to keep because they get it. I get it, now. Soon, I will awaken, still reaching out for Luke, but with thoughts of a new day, and of new faces. This is one thing I have learned, as I pack up, throw out and remember to breathe: The fireworks do not come from the dreams we have, or from the way things turn out. The fireworks explode during the experience, and they are there to light our way.

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Mathura hosts an LGTBQ+ Podcast featuring guests who've been through some shit 

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