Sometimes writing won’t come to me, or I just don’t want to share. I guess I am talking about poetry, since this is supposed to be my poetry blog.
The video may be difficult to understand below; they are pictures from my life. The video is about loss and hope.
In my twenties, I lost my best friend to suicide after he left my apartment for a visit, later my father to aggressive, esophageal cancer, and then a few years ago my best friend after the previous friend to a car accident. I lost other loved ones in-between; my grandfather and beloved cousin.
Grief is hard; grief is harder when it comes in waves. I wonder sometimes if my view of life has been permanently altered. I think about people who suffer atrocities in other countries, and people who survive acts of great horror, and I do not know how they remain “human” and strong. They must be remarkable. Some, understandably, do not make it. I understand why, I think.
I do not know how I was changed, but my life was a series of difficulties from a young age. Psychological abuse and neglect, which I often don’t mention overtly on the blog, years of therapy (of course), a history of mental illness in the family and my own struggles with it, friends and loved ones taken away from me, helplessness, things you don’t talk about, more therapy, an abusive relationship…things we don’t say out loud. However, I am not afraid to put them here. I know they’ll be seen, but what I’ve experienced is a part of me, and there are lots of us out there trying to find our way…figure out something.
I have remained bright, loving, and full of life throughout in-between being wrecked by darker emotions. It was a survival mechanism. However, it also gave me qualities I am very proud of today.
During all of this, I suffered from chronic pain and strange symptoms. I had difficulty keeping jobs, and ultimately left my job earlier this year by necessity. I couldn’t take another day. Pain and odd symptoms and depression and anxieties consumed me. I later found out that I had a disabling and potentially debilitating genetic disorder, which I discuss on my other blog called Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome Contemplations. There is a link in the menu above if you’d like to visit.
I know some will read about someone like me and judge what type of person I must be. I think when it is hard to relate to someone, we become harsh and/or frightened. Some people cope by making suggestions that are unnecessary; they are the “try to fix it” people, always believing there must be a way to make things all okay. That’s okay. Some will read this, and they will know.
If judgment is there, so be it. I would ask that you look around at the world some more, perhaps re-evaluate what is normal, and contemplate the importance of empathy and understanding. They are different things…empathy and understanding. I won’t defend…
Maybe they wonder to themselves, how does a “normal” person get into situation like she did? Well, I wasn’t normal; I also was sweet, naïve, and suffered abuse and resulting helplessness, again and again. Predators see us. I’m not a lamb anymore though. I am the owl in the trees above watching…or a hawk swooping for the kill. Not literally…
I see things differently (I think) from others, though sometimes my past still haunts me. I imagine it will always reside in some part of my mind. However, time does heal. I’ve experienced it, so I can only imagine times of joy await, as well as the times of grief, and all states in-between. I am not so optimistic as I used to be; perhaps just realistic.
Now I am 30. I’m married, but I cannot have children in our situation. Maybe one day, though I’m still wary of the idea. I fear, understandably to me, given my past. I fear also because I have a 50/50 chance of passing my genetic condition on. That fear could be done away with by simply adopting, and I would be happy. Things have to get more stable in life though than they are now, and I am not positive I have the “mom” urge in me for whatever reason, though I adore children and am full of happiness around them.
So, a brief synopsis here…barely a synopsis. I can’t tell details…maybe one day and maybe not. They leak out in my poetry if you look closely enough. The poems are my therapy. They saved me.
The other things that saved me were friends that have passed, and my father’s love, even though they became a source of further helplessness in my grief at their passing. Still today, if I am honest with myself, my thoughts stray to them often (as they should).
Then there are friends that remain by my side today and have stood up to the test of time. Anh and Bryan. Lastly, and most potently, there is my love, Dani. Ultimately, he is my hope. He was the water, food, and sunlight on the seed. The song is for him. It is called, Face of a Faith, by Nellie McKay. Until I write again…