Forgiveness mode has been in affect for me this last few weeks. This is something that I come in and out of every few months so this time I chose to force myself to stay out to deal with itm instead of running to hide the way I normally do when it gets too deep.
The best thing is that there is always new things to forgive yourself for! Especially when you’re a hot mess like me. Forever throwing new things into that basket of things to work through.
My current favorite thing to do on this journey is actually a well used method that I brought back. The good old trusty empty notebook that I sit down with. After searching my whole house for actual writing utensil that aren’t for my children’s homework, I find the most comfortable spot in the house. I turn on some back ground music that won’t distract me.
And then I sit there. Drawing a damn blank. Every time.
However after a forced start that lasts the whole front of the first handwritten page I tend to unleash. I find myself finding out which way is the best to let whatever feelings out.
Sometimes it is written as if I am speaking, or yelling, at the person that is affecting me the most.
Sometimes I am berating myself for the dumb move that I made at some point.
For a long time it was written to the people that died. Whether they died because of natural causes or suicide. Whether I was yelling at them for leaving me, or I was telling them the newest thing that I feel they missed out on.
I write until I honestly feel like I have nothing more to say about it for the day. I make sure that I am honest and frank. I say the things I can’t say out loud. Don’t hold back. Write as if no one will ever have the chance to read it.
And then I rip it out of the notebook, walk outside and burn it. Safely of course. All in the name of safety.
But burn that shit. To the ground. Let it turn into ashes that the wind will send flying through the air.
Imagine those feelings flying away are little chips off the block that is building up and getting in your way.
The reality of being a survivor is something that strikes me a lot.
The honest fact is that ‘survivor’ means something different to everyone makes that sentence bring something different to every readers mind.
The basic definition of the word is simple.
A person who survived, especially a person remaining alive after an event in which others have died.
The remainder of a group of people or things
A person who copes well with difficulties in life
Definition’s in the dictionary are great but it always feels different. They never seem to be able to describe what to expect the feelings to be.
That said I can’t even begin to explain how it feels different depending which thing I am feeling like I am a survivor from that day. That sounds crazy even to me.
But when it comes down to it, I am a survivor of a whole list of different things. As is every person alive.
That list can seem daunting but that needs to be something I chose to focus on in the near future to make sure that any of my past damage does not creep up to affect my future.
The biggest thing about being a survivor however is learning to move past it. Past the trauma. Past the events. Past the guilt. Past the feelings. Past the judgement. Past the pity. Past the expectation of what it should have been. Past the expectation of what could have been.
I think that is the hardest part. It doesn’t matter what type of ‘event’ happened. It’s the idea of forgiving yourself for letting it happen. Forgiving yourself for expectations. Forgiving yourself for not seeing it coming. Forgiving yourself for not getting over it as fast as people think you should. Or even as fast as you think you should.
Be kind to yourself. Accept the reality of it. It is your domain. It is your safe space. It will always be overwhelming. Break it down into peices. Handle the peices in the best way possible… for YOU.
Staying alive while facing mental health battles seems to be a minute by minute choice. It’s the conversations that no one wants to have, but are more important than anything else you talked about today. There hasn’t been one moment in my last twenty years that I wasnt intimately aware of mental health. Between dealing with ever cycling emotions of puberty in my own body, and watching some of the others around me face battle deep inside.
Within that same timing I had my world flipped upside down because someone close to me lost the battle.
Talk to you lived ones. Listen when they chose to talk. You may be the only one they turn to.
That makes it all that much more important to chose the people you surround yourself with.
Make sure they are healthy for you, in the good times and the bad.
So I am not sure when they decided that September was suicide awareness month, but I am having a rough time with it. I am absolutely all for the surge of awareness for prevention, don’t get me wrong.
On a selfish note, the timing sucks.
The beginning of October will mark nineteen years since my life was forever changed. This is one of those weird situations where I feel selfish talking about how it affected me instead of how the family members were affected. I see his mothers posts on social media and it tears my heart apart to imagine what she is going through. As a mother, I fight trying to imagine the life that she has been forced to live. As much as I love the woman, she makes me think of him too much and I have never been able to handle that. That makes me feel like such a bad human. She has done nothing but been amazing to me, but I get the feeling that I remind her of him as well. How do I fix that?
The boy that I knew deserved more then the life he lived to be cut short. I want to know the battles he faced. I want to go back and be able to talk to him more, have deeper questions and conversations, with a better understanding of mental health. He didn’t deserve to fight that alone. He didn’t deserve to feel like the world would ever be a better place if he weren’t in it. I think that’s what breaks me the most. The idea that this boy I loved, this boy that I considered my best friend, this boy that I was planning my life to revolve around, thought that we would all be better without him.
I know I was super young, and naïve. I know that there was lots of kids in the family so it is hard to get super invested in each kid the way you could if its an only child. I am also aware that teenagers do everything possible to not let parents in. He slipped through the cracks of a otherwise perfect family. Seriously this was the family that I was always jealous of. All the brothers and sisters, the always present parents and grandparents. Don’t get me wrong my family is amazing, but there wasn’t a lot of us and that family seemed like the big happy family that I always thought I wanted.
No matter how much changes in this life I will always miss you.
No matter how happy I become, how much I love my life now,or how much I love the people I chose to surround myself with…. I will always miss you.
It doesnt matter how long its been. It doesn’t matter if everything I kept to remind me of you is gone. It doesnt matter if I have forgotten the sound of your voice, or the exact mannerism you used to posess…. I will always miss you.
I closed the chapter. I opened another. I cherish every part to do with my life now. I still miss you.
Now I wonder if the version of you in my head is real or if its shifted into what I want to remember versus what I don’t want to, but I still miss you.