January 18th

 Trigger Warning?....perhaps

This post is both dark and also bright. It is a post about considering an end, but choosing to live. Again and again. 

January 18th is a significant date because in my "poetic" mind, I thought it was the best date to "end" my life. Six months after my birth day, I chose this date more than once, as a date to wrap things up and move on from this life....but each time I chose instead to keep living. 

The first time, I was sixteen. I had sad eyes, but people would comment on the chlorine that must have bothered them from all the swimming I did...

in the words of one of my favorite bands at the time; "Girl of sixteen, whole life ahead of her..." ~ Depeche Mode, Blasphemous Rumors

But I didn't slash my wrists - that was far too gruesome. And I didn't really want to die. I was just scared and sad and didn't really want to live. I come from a family that is really good at depression. We were taught to work hard and never be satisfied, and also never feel good about ourselves. We were taught to not fit in. And then after the one year I seemed to finally be more comfortable with success and friends - my 15th year of life, and sophomore year of high school - things happened that threw me down and seemed to punish me for that success and happiness. As if I dared to feel good about myself.... and crash down I did. 

I don't remember much from my junior year of high school. I cut my hair short and wore sweat pants and baggy clothes and listened to dark music and cried a lot.... I was too cowardly to actually kill myself, but I certainly wished I could just go to sleep and never wake up. 

Somehow I kept going and made it through the next couple years. I had teachers and coaches that let me know they cared and were watching out for me. I still got good grades and escaped into music, and planned a better escape and new life in college....

And then more trauma found me. Again, I dared to be "happy" and found friends and a new life as a freshman, only to have it raped away from me.  More than once. Even when I wasn't actually raped, I had a quiet voice and people often didn't listen to it. I did have good friends - people who cared about me - but the entire 4 years of college were a nearly continuous battle of emotional turmoil. I'm still amazed that I managed to graduate with a bachelor's degree. But whereas I used to be embarrassed by how bad my grades were, I am finally rather impressed that I was able to persevere. 

There were many times during those years that I picked a date - like January 18th - but never came up with a "good enough" plan, and instead kept going. I sometimes laughed and smiled, but my eyes still hid a lot of sadness....

I was very lucky to meet my husband during this time, and it is true that he saved my life. I don't say that lightly. I didn't want to have to be saved, but I think I needed help. We helped each other, and we have two amazing kids and a really good life. 

But genetics and learned behavior are impossible to ignore and run away from, and depression and angst followed me. Despite my "charmed life", I still struggled. Post partum depression was tough, and my over-thinking, highly sensitive mind and body kept me uncomfortable and searching for something...though I didn't know what. It is true that I had a fear of success, and the words of that old Depeche Mode song would still play in my mind, that the girl who "fell in love with everything" would get hit by a car or something. I was afraid that if I let myself be happy that things would go wrong. I was afraid that perhaps God had "a sick sense of humor" and was just waiting for me to want to live to kill me off. I needed to keep punishing myself; I couldn't let myself be happy. 

The last time I looked at January 18th as a "good day to die" wasn't so very long ago. I won't say exactly how long, but I thought my kids were old enough that they would be ok - better off even - without me. I had made some poor choices and was beating myself up and not forgiving myself, but more than that I really thought every little mistake I had made over my lifetime added up to some kind of  unforgiveable sin. But I'm talking about little things like a fight I got in with my best friend when I was five and called her names, and the time I felt road rage and followed a car for a block in anger.  I was so hard on myself for the little things that I was considering doing a really big thing that couldn't be reversed. But of course I wasn't thinking rationally. 

I was living a wonderful life, but I didn't think I deserved it and I didn't appreciate it. 

My eyes were tormented. 

I had set the date of January 18th as a date that I would end things, *if* I couldn't change them around. 

I am still here. 

 

Now January 18th is the date that I celebrate the choice I made to stay and live. 

I still make mistakes. And it's still hard to forgive myself. But usually I can take each day as a chance to do better. Better thoughts, better words, better actions. And a chance to make up for some of the mistakes of the past. Those times when I was selfish and didn't think about someone else that I was maybe hurting. Those times when I wasn't being selfish but just made a bad decision. 

I'm not perfect. 

I am only human.

And this January 18th, I am still alive. 

The Calm Between the Storms?

 

For about the past 10 days I've been thinking about what I might want to write, in order to somehow document this time in history. What it has been like, to watch as "Americans" stormed our own Capitol chanting about hanging our Vice President and killing other members of our government. 

I still don't know what to write. 

This morning, as I sit here, things are fairly calm. But the skies are dark and the waves are still crashing. More quietly now, but threatening.... 

Will the waves stay small? Is the worst of it over and the sun will continue to come out now?

Or is this just the calm between the storms? The sky is still dark, and the storms are still threatening... will the sea continue to churn and the waves continue to crash?

Will we get thrown around against the rocks? Cut up amongst the sharp edges? 

Or will peace prevail? 

Can we keep the bigger storm at a distance and let the sun come out again...

Obviously I am using this as an excuse to share some pictures that I think are a nice representation of the political climate in this country right now. The skies are various shades of grey, with some sun and blue sky peeking out. But things are pretty dark and ominous right now. 

There is a lot of churning and crashing and spraying. 

But I am still going to keep my eye on the sun. 

And hope that we don't get too beaten up in this storm.