We all carry pain... December 19 2022, 0 Comments

     
Today marks the 11-year anniversary of my little brother’s suicide. He was 39 years old. What I would give/do to know the 50 year old man he could have been today... To know what he loves, who he connects with, what excites him about the future, what scares him. To see what he creates, what he shares with the world.
We now believe he had suffered from chronic depression since puberty. He used drugs to ease, numb some of the suffering. And he concealed those delicate parts with louder, stronger emotions like anger, frustration, indignation. He also used them to push people away, quarantining with his pain.
  
I think it’s probably safe to say that most of us carry some hurt. Old wounds and traumas that left imprints in our bodies, that shaped us long before we had the tools to process them in a healthy way. Often before we even had language to communicate.
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I sure do.
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And my tiny ill-equipped self created all sorts of mechanisms to survive. Shoving the painful stuff into the depths of my little body, unable to deal with it. And there it remained. Locked up. Carefully guarded.
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My brother used anger to ensure no one would try to poke at the tender bits; I’ve mostly used humor and perfectionism. “I’ve got my shit together.” “I’m good at being silly, at making people laugh.” Nobody will come knocking at the secret door they can’t see...
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But there comes a time in many human lives where the body can no longer hold all the pain quietly. It’s at full capacity. And a single event, big or small, can crack the armor, break the Pandora’s box open.
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For me it came in the form of a car accident, five and a half years ago. And it felt like it shattered me into a million little pieces.
So many nights, as I lay my head on my pillow, I prayed with all my heart not to see the light of tomorrow. Yep. Me.
Me with the really great life.
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I’m well aware that I am among the fortunate ones. I have an incredible partner who loves me unconditionally, who holds my hand through think and thin. Through glorious and messy. I have a beautiful community of supportive family members and friends. I have the strength to keep doing the hard work and to keep searching for helpful tools. And even in the darkest moments, there’s always a flicker of hope that whispers in my ear “There’s got to be a way through this. Somehow…”
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We’ve come a long way, and yet there’s still so much SHAME around mental and emotional health challenges. We still misunderstand so much of it. We still know so little about the intricate inner-workings of the human brain and its delicate chemical balance.
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I’m no stranger to that “S” word. I want people to open up to me, to know I’m there for them. I lend an ear, offer my shoulder to cry on, but I definitely can’t let others see MY pain…
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The truth is the great majority of us keep our hurt hidden, so we rarely know what’s really going on in people’s lives. And social media has been a blessing as well as a curse in that regard. We can connect quickly and easily. We see life events as we scroll by and THINK we know how people are doing. The subtle signs of distress that can be felt in real, in-person connection usually get lost in a text/email, a Facebook comment, an Instagram post or a TicToc video.
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SO…
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Today, in honor of my beloved little brother Pedro who couldn’t do it… In honor of one of my close friend’s beautiful 18 year old son Hugo, who didn’t think there was a way out… In honor of Stephen “tWitch” Boss who felt there were no other options to end the pain… In honor of all who have suffered in silence, and those who are still suffering, I take this small step.
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A baby step to loosen the grip of shame that has kept many parts of me captive for too long. A baby step in the direction of a solution. A tiny step to stop feeding the cruel silence that has cut too many precious lives short. That has deprived our world of so many beautiful & unique gifts only they could’ve shared.
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Life is not one dimensional. It’s not only light or only darkness. I think we can experience moments of tremendous joy and bouts of excruciating pain. I have, and I do. Sometimes even on the same day. Both absolutely real.
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It’s been a journey. It is a journey. And it will most likely be a journey until my very last breath. And I guess that’s Life with all its hills and valleys. With its endless opportunities to grow and evolve. To dismantle and reprogram.
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I don’t have the answers. I don’t know what the solution is. But I have a pretty good idea what it’s not.
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I believe we can reach out more, connect more. We can be kinder, more compassionate. Even when we don’t understand. We can realize that we are so much more alike than we are different, and that joy as well as pain are universally human.
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We can do better.
Together.
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