Everyone has a deep, dark pit that is particular to them.
No one’s pit looks the same, and no one arrives at their pit in the exact same way as someone else.
Some get there by getting lost in the dark and wandering too far from the light they worked so hard to kindle.
Others charge in full speed ahead because they forget what their pit looks like, even if they’ve crawled out in the past and sworn never to return.
Still more people throw down a rope and descend with a smile because they so enjoy the feeling of needing to be saved, of hoping to be saved.
Being in a pit is a good excuse for not doing other things.
Being in a pit keeps us safe from the dangers of the normal world, just as it keeps us isolated from the thrill of challenge and pleasure of triumph.
We forget what those things are when we’re in the pit. We wonder if they were just a delusion. We think to ourselves:
“Is there even a world up there?”
There is a world, even if your pit is so deep that the world’s light doesn’t reach. The proof is the ladder. Just as everyone has a pit, everyone has a ladder.
If there wasn’t a world up there, why would there be a way up?
Finding the ladder means fumbling around in the dark.
As you fumble, you may encounter things you wish you hadn’t. Ugly things, terrifying to touch. You threw them in the pit for a reason, but by doing so you only made it a more terrible place to fall down into.
But no matter how terrible they are, they cannot keep you from the ladder.
The ladder is always there.