In my previous piece I said that I was going to tell you how I got through my suicidal times alone. I’ll tell you right now, it wasn’t easy. It was hell. It was a hell I’m glad I went through though. My life is far from perfect now, but I feel blessed to still be here, and I am glad that I found the strength to suffer these trials.
Now before anyone goes thinking that my use of the term “blessed” means this is going to turn into a religious sermon, calm down. I didn’t really have spirituality back then. I do now, but that’s just one of the things that staying alive allowed me to accomplish. In all honesty, I was very Riddick back then: “I absolutely believe in God… And I absolutely hate the fucker.” God and religion have very little to do with how I got through.
Well, I suppose god may have played a part. I figured that God, Gaia, whatever the hell was out there, must hate me. Depression and a shit life of physical and mental abuse can do that to you. I lived in spite of god. If god wanted me dead, it was going to have to fucking work for it. I wasn’t going to go quietly into the night. No, I was going to go kicking and tearing and screaming obscenities.
And I suddenly realize that you may not have read the old posts with my backstory, and there are too many to link. In summary: I grew up poor, abandoned by parents, raised by grandparents, forced to be like a boy, gender confused, physically and mentally abused by family, outcast at school for being poor, ugly, white, near-genius smart. Raped in high school and slut shamed right out of school, married young to a Christian, got pregnant, miscarriage, abuse, more poverty. Lots of shit. Later alcohol and drug problems, abusive relationships. Lots of shit in between that I’d rather not think about right now. Suffice it to say I had a hard fucking life.
I know I was going to slit my wrists at one point in high school, around the time of the rape and subsequent dumping by my first real love. I also contemplated murdering my grandmother and great grandmother. I even planned it. I was going to kill myself with vodka and antidepressants after my miscarriage during my first marriage. I’ve had thoughts since then, some fairly serious, but those two early ones were the big ones.
My then hatred of god was part of what got me through. As I said, I intended to go kicking and screaming. I don’t hate god anymore, but I sure did then. Whether you believe in god or not, something to fight against helps. Living in spite of something isn’t optimal, but it can get you through.
The bigger thing for me, both times, was living in spite of my abusers. People had hit me, raped me, shamed me, called me names, hurt my mind and my heart. I hated them so much. I decided that I could not let them win. I believed that they truly hated me, that they wanted me to die, that they wanted me out of the world. They would be happy if I proved them right by being weak and stupid and useless and just killing myself. I decided I could not, would not let them win.
That was my fire, my passion. I lived because my strength made them suffer. An abuser loses power when you take it back from them. They can’t hurt you if you don’t let them. When you are strong, fierce, they can’t win. When your fire to live and overcome burns that bright and hot, they can’t touch you, body or mind. That was my trick, my saving grace. I turned all of that hate and pain and suffering into a raging inferno of desire to live no matter what life threw at me.
When I did it, both times, I was a fucking storm for a while. I swore and fought and stood up. I looked abusers in the eye, I left my husband. I was, for a time, a burning whirlwind of power. It fades after a while, but it gave me the courage I needed to move beyond the suicidal thoughts. It bought me time. When the rage subsided, I had time to think of all the reasons I was going to live, all that I was going to accomplish. I realized I was going to need several lifetimes to get it all done.
Even now I still have depressions. I don’t know if you ever really heal completely from abuse and bullying and all the shit some of us have faced. I do know that I can look back on those times I pulled through, and know that I have the strength to do it again. I can pull myself out of the darkness now, and thankfully, I have people in my life now who are there for me. I have the love and support I never had before, and not being alone makes it easier.
I wish that I could just take all of that strength I had and magically share it with all of you who need it. If I could I would. The best I can do is write, and be here for anyone who ever wants to contact me. Just please remember, your life is worth living. You are so special and amazing, even if you can’t see it right now. No matter what anyone else says, you deserve to be here. You should live, and you can live. Don’t let the sadness and pain make you weak. Use it, turn it into the fire you need to fuel the life you deserve.