SeeingRred
The Unburdening
I am at an all-time low. I know I have said that a few times before. And, when the words pealed out from me each time, I meant it and FELT it. Experience has taught me that even when you think Life can’t get any worse, it does. Its gnarly claw reaches for that hidden button, surreptitiously taking you past the ground floor into the dark, subterranean unknown.
In 2014 I made a promise. I gave myself a year. I stayed focussed, worked hard, and made insurmountable changes, surpassing every goal that I had set. I did not recognize myself. I had grown into the happy doing/being/living person I had always wanted to be. It was like magic, a dream come true. I felt boundless and untouchable.
I acknowledged and accepted the constant fear that co-existed in my mind. The one that jeered and hissed from the corners, whispering prophecies of rising numbers and self-defeat. I ignored it believing that, having done the work and learned so much, that I was strong enough. I was vigilant in my watch.
Two years later, in the middle of a crowd, on a bright, sunshiny summer day, it came for me. And, with a ferocious, merciless lunge, it knocked me down on all fours and bled me.
I almost died that day. I barely made it.
With one vicious swipe, everything I thought I knew, all that I thought was mine, was taken. Hollowed out, I had little to fight with, so I dragged myself up and crawled away.
The Soul-Searching
My life unravelled last year. Stunned and paralyzed with fear, I did not know what to do. So, I waited, thinking that time would heal me and I would regain my strength. I hoped that I might take what I had learned earlier and rebuild my Self. It didn’t and I couldn’t.
This time, I know what I am up against. I see it for what it is and all that it has done. Derided and re-shamed, I have to start again. So, this time, I will not keep silent, for my silence gave it life. I will lure it out with compassion and tame it with my words. Then, we can be free.
The Denouement
I have been journaling and writing my woes for a long time. But, even though I know that secrets do much harm and do not help, I did not share my story for fear that it might be uncomfortable or that, by divulging my life, I would be discussing topics that many believe are meant to be private. I do not want to be disrespectful nor cause any upset. This is very important to me. Yet, in my heart of hearts, I believe I must tell. Why go so public and blog it (and not just speak to a counsellor, or family or friends)? There are reasons. I have lived with feelings of shame, guilt, dirtiness, ugliness, worthlessness, confusion, anger and hate for most of my life. I have carried it and swaddled it, not realizing that it was not my burden to bear. I have taken great pains to hide it and worked endlessly to control it. But, more and more, I feel it changing me and slowly killing my spirit. I see it spilling out into my life affecting the ones I love most. I will not stand for this. I cannot. I need to do something (different), once and for all to stop it.
I have lived with Depression since I was a child. I have struggled to understand and overcome it for as long as I can remember. Hearing other people’s experiences, finding that I was not the only one going through this journey, and finally witnessing successes, gave me strength and offered me more hope. The mere thought that it was really possible to rise above one’s plight is what gave me license to give it one last try (and keep trying), to make solid changes, and to allow myself a chance for happiness and success. Perhaps there is someone out there who feels lost, alone and desperate, who might come across my story. Perhaps I can be for him/her what others have been for me. Even if my story helps one person, the discomfort is worth it.
End time: 6:03am
Debbie Bauer
Call me for a chat please! Anytime!
SeeingRred
You are a pillar of strength and determination, Deb… a true force and a role model. I will call you (or bump into you soon, I promise:) ❤️
Lucy
I read somewhere that there is no growth without discomfort.
I follow this trans woman Kat Blaque who has been basically vlogging her personal struggles for over a decade, through her lowest points and sometimes raw and detailed. It has come at some price , as online, people are bound to strike at your vulnerabilities and hide behind anonymity. But through it all, she grew and found her place , her satisfaction with life. And a decade later, she’s at a low point again. She’s regrouping and going back to basics. Sharing, learning and growing.
I think those who want to learn and grow, will. Some people might find it too much , but that is the place they’re at in life.
I hope this becomes an outlet , a source of growth and I will go along for a ride with you 🙂 ❤️
SeeingRred
If growth comes with discomfort, then by the end of this process I’ll be oozing out and rattling the rooftops, Lucy! lol
I took a peek at Kat Blaque. What a powerful speaker, with so much experience and, with it, wisdom to share. I will delve further for sure! I thought I had taken great consideration before putting myself out there. I do expect people to make judgments and even be critical or harsh. This I can handle (I think:) What I didn’t expect was that I would be so uncomfortable with the outpouring of encouragement and support. Don’t get me wrong — It is super dooper wonderful to receive positive feedback (Thanks to everyone who have made comments publicly and messaged me privately — hearts, hearts, hearts!). But, in truth, these heartfelt, sympathetic encounters leave me squeamish and uneasy. I leave these situations not only trying to discern what they are really thinking of me, and whether I have clearly communicated the message(s) I set out to, but looking internally to make sense of the connections that I am making for myself. I am realizing this in itself is an area of growth that I will learn to embrace (with grace).
On this great ride, we all need a “Louise.” Thanks, Luce ❤️
Lucy
Yeah, I totally get it. All the mushy talk and hugs and hearts often makes me wonder whether that’s pity and whether that’s the kind of support I want. But I think that’s my pessimistic anxiety, not reality. It’s hard for people to describe the complex feelings they have and not redirect the conversation to themselves. Also the reason it’s extra effort for me to take compliments.