We all have pain in our past that sometimes resurfaces to knock the wind out of our sails. Even if we think we’ve healed and moved on, the boogieman from the past can still catch us off-guard. This week marked the start of the 11th anniversary of a 5 week traumatic event that altered my life. Most years, I can get through it with just a passing nod to that event. This year, it’s gripped me in its claws and torn me open again.
I didn’t know why until I took a few minutes to really look at the memories and emotion that were gnawing on me. I realized that something new had surfaced and it needed dealing with. A new hurt that had been shuffled to the back of priority list, mostly because it was so much deeper than the mental and physical torture I endured. It was an emotional hurt – a betrayal by a loved one. And, it took 11 years for me to be ready – mentally, emotionally, and spiritually – to face the eviscerating agony of knowing someone I loved and trusted put me in the situation that led to the horrifying events that nearly broke me.
Being able to acknowledge that fact, forgive them, and let go of them and the harm they caused … well, that wasn’t something I could do until recently. So, I hid it away until it landed in my lap like jetsam strewn across a beach.
Today’s Throwback Thursday is for everyone who still “bleeds” once in a while from the horrors that haunt you:
Healing is like the tide.
Issues get washed ashore in small waves,
so we don’t drown in a tidal wave
of pain and sorrow.
Know that you’re not alone and you will not drown in the depths of your past. You survived, walked away, and flourished. Face those memories and emotions when they wash over you and heal what the tide brought forth. Don’t be afraid of them. They’re indicators that you’re ready to take another step away from your past and into your glorious future. Each application of love you apply to those wounds makes you stronger and helps you shine brighter for the people around you who are still suffering ~*~
I’ve seen a few status updates today talking about Suicide Prevention and I know a few people on my social media lists are struggling with depression. I want to share something, because I’ve lost too many loved ones … and I was almost lost myself.
(Warning: Strong language)
About 15 years ago, I was living in Toronto on the 5th floor of an apartment building. I’d been broke, homeless, and hungry so often during the previous 8 years that it seemed like those things were the fabric of the marriage I was in at the time. I didn’t know how long I was going to have a roof over my head this time and, I was recovering from a near-death illness that made it impossible for me to even think about getting a job. I was scared all the time. I was angry and frustrated … and …
I didn’t know it at the time, but I was depressed. I didn’t know it when I gave away the things I loved and valued. Precious things from my childhood. Beloved things I had carefully saved up for – not expensive or grand items; books, a pretty blouse … things that made me feel happy.
It didn’t dawn on me that I could possibly be depressed, because I was always the up-beat, positive, forward-moving one that people looked to when they needed to be lifted up. There was always hope! Tomorrow was a better day waiting to pounce on us!
I had no idea I was depressed until I opened the bedroom window one afternoon, pulled the screen off, and hoisted myself over the sill. Hanging half-in and half-out of the window, I looked down at the pavement below trying to decide if 5 stories was high enough to kill me. I figured if I went feet first, I might just end up breaking a lot of bones, but if I went out the window headfirst …
That thought didn’t scare me. Not a bit. I didn’t think about how anyone would miss me or what would happen to them afterward. Except, I did wonder one thing: What would *I* do after I was dead? Believing that I am an eternal being meant that death wouldn’t end the pain I was in. I would take that shit with me into the next realm and probably into the next life. I couldn’t stomach the idea of dragging my pain any further – infecting my eternal life with a temporary torment.
I climbed back into the bedroom, sat on the bed, and cried. Then, I went hunting. I tracked down the things that were making me unhappy. I dug to the roots of the pain, took names and notes, and when I could, I began eliminating those things.
See, I had something call “Situational Depression“. Change the situation that’s causing the depression and it goes away. I dug deep and turned to face the enemy that put me so low in order to attack those hateful things instead of myself … I knew I had to share with those who are struggling right now. I desperately need to tell you this:
“Thought about quitting, then I noticed who was watching.”
GET THE FUCK UP!! FIND YOUR ENEMY AND FIGHT, DAMN IT! I love you and you have no clue who needs you! Find your enemy; situation, environment, chemical imbalance, whatever it is – hunt it down and FUCKING “KILL” IT! Remove it from your life with extreme prejudice like you’re a fucking sniper with no mercy.
You are the Light the others (including me) rely on when seeking an escape from their own Darkness .
Fight the Darkness Without Mercy. Lay your head down to rest. Then, get the fuck up, and fight some more.
You and me: We’re going to win this fight together!