After breaking the silence to my online community on August 2, 2016, I didn’t post anything more about it until January 4, 2017. Like the first post, I wrote, re-wrote, edited… edited again, thought about it… thought some more… and finally made it visible to most of my online connections a few days after the new year began.
And like the first time, the outpouring of love, patience, and understanding was more than I could handle. It took multiple attempts to read the responses I received, let alone even allowing myself to become emotionally invested in the messages.
Thank you for creating a safe space for my reality in its raw form. Thank you for accepting it for what it is and what I have become. Thank you for taking the time to send kind words.
2016 began with me finally realizing how bad my situation really was. Since then, I’ve left him, feared half the human population, left my job and friends and moved across the world – again.
I also met the best therapist I could ask for, and relied very heavily on her and a hand full of others for a number of months. I finally started to be able to talk about some of the things that had been going on, at least what I could remember.
I went from loathing everything about myself, and being embarrassed about my existence, feeling guilty for breathing the oxygen and eating the food that so many others could be putting to better use…just wishing I could disappear into nothingness… to finally being able to sing again. For every step forward I take, I often feel like I’m taking a step or two back… but I still manage to wake up every morning to another day. I still have the life that so many are fighting to keep.
I told a friend a while ago that I want to want to choose life – how wonderful of a desire would that be? We talk about choosing death, but how many of us choose life, rather than simply living because we already have a life? The friend responded that me saying this already meant I did want to choose life. Although I’m still not sure if that’s true, it’s a good desire to strive for.
Guilt is what kept me alive before – guilt of leaving my parents behind with things to clean up, organize, and pay for after I’m gone, guilt of knowing I’d let them down, guilt of knowing I would hurt them forever, guilt of leaving my boss suddenly in need of a replacement and needing to investigate what happened.
My guilt now often relates to not “recovering” fast enough, although I don’t hope to be the same person I was before.
As I wander and float from place to place, I’m realizing that the beauty I see on planet earth is what keeps me going and wanting to wake up to another day.
Perhaps now in 2017, I’ll find another reason to want to choose life – that luxurious choice that not everyone can make.