Hope from Vulnerability…Finding the will to live
During my pre-teen and teen years, I wrote a lot. I had no idea what else to do with the thoughts, conversations and silly puns in my mind. There was no one to share mind boggling thoughts with; no one who would be genuinely interested or amused. Sadly, most of those notebooks have gone up in flames. I destroyed them in fears of all repercussions possible if someone knew all my deep and true thoughts.
I’d write about myself in the third person and rename characters, giving the illusion of fiction for any curious eyes. The chaotic stories in my head with slightly exaggerated half-truths (to keep the imaginary readers intrigued and attentive), would easily be converted to well-ordered expressions through my pencil onto paper, then I’d be relieved for a while with an almost empty mind. Occasionally, I’d cross paths with individuals with great personalities, and without knowing, they’d soon become the listeners in my daydreams. I would always imagine and prayed that it would all happen in real life.
More than a decade later, it is still surreal that it has actually happened! I’ve finally found family, (or maybe they found me) with whom I am comfortable sharing all my thoughts: unedited and without fictional add-ons.
Whenever I get around to sharing my most vulnerable thoughts, it’s like chipping chunks off this backbreaking weight I have been carrying around on my shoulder. It has become easier to walk daily: back straighter, chin elevated. Some days, the remaining weight gets me really exhausted, and just being reminded that it is there really hits hard. I occasionally get tired of fighting to keep the weight above me, and allow it to crush me below; like an insect below the weight of a large boulder, with darkness all around and no will to live beyond that minute.
Fortunately, I am sometimes able to crawl out towards the light, gleaming through a crack created by earlier victories and chipping. Other times, I have had to cry for help: to be reminded of God’s purpose for me. I am still scared of admitting to my struggle with these thoughts. I have even grown accustomed to hiding all associations with it. I clearly remember ridiculously laughing during a conversation about someone who had taken their own life. It had simply become so natural to pretend, that wanting to say ‘I want to do that too’ translated to unassuming laughs for help.
Now, that others know this ‘secret’ of mine, it is easier to be hopeful. Being reminded that people are in my corner: just listeners and readers are all sometimes all that’s needed to find a spark in the dark, under the weight.
The more I share my raw thoughts and emotions, the lighter the weight becomes.
Each time I hear of another victim, I begin to think that maybe they just didn’t get to be their raw true selves with enough genuine listeners; maybe they just didn’t expect a light to show up so far beneath the weight that they didn’t even bother to look for sparks.
Maybe they just didn’t hear the story of someone who was in the exact same position but found their way to a spark and crawled out.
Maybe their joy and purpose, much like the next level of a game, required just one more fight with a bit more effort, to reveal the awesome life that awaits.
Maybe they have never experienced the joys that results from helping others to be better versions of themselves by just using their own broken parts. So if you are anything like me, be open to being vulnerable and start chipping that weight.
If you happen to fall beneath it, always look for a spark, or simply cry out for help. Then once you are out, start walking again: chin up and back straight. It will all be worth it in the end.
C2B Oct. 2017