“Sometimes the weight you need to release isn’t physical”
December 5th. Fuck you December 5th. I cannot tell how I feel about this day. I am conflicted because it is identifiable as my darkest day, but also the first day of the new me. The pain of this day is one that I did not create alone. You see, I had had a lifetime of pain, rejection, and abandonment. All topics not acknowledged, simply pushed down and covered up with vodka. Just a few weeks earlier (October) I had flown down to Texas with my then 5 year old daughter to see my half brother. I was drunk, which was my constant baseline back in those days, and my half brother raped me. Shame filled me. I told no one. Eventually my family blamed me. So, I did what I do best. I pushed it down, blamed myself, and drank to be numb. This was the start of the dark night of my soul and my clinical depression. My soul was ravaged in pain and the anger oozed out of me at an uncontrollable rate. I was raw. I lacked all hope and it hurt to roll over in bed. I couldn’t see how life could ever improve. I had lost all hope. I was so dark that I lived in Southern California and don’t ever recall seeing the sun. My heart was darker than midnight on a new moon. I literally snorted opiates and drank so much vodka I should have been pickled. But then, it got worse. I realized I did not want to live, like would anyone even notice if I wasn’t here anymore? Of course not. I was worthless and the cause of all my families problems, even the ones that happened decades before I was ever born. I instantly knew the solution. I called Ziya and begged her to take my daughter. I then proceeded to google suicide. I made a plan and executed it perfectly, all while telling no one. At some point during the day my bio father called a friend told a whopper of a lie (something he is skilled at) and then made a false police report against me. The truth was already ugly enough, one did not need to lie about it. But, that was his choice, that was always his choice. A few hours later the police broke down my door with guns drawn. Another police trauma in a long history of police trauma at the hands of my family. Funny the police never did find that homicidal woman with an arsenal of weapons. They did however find a shell of a human, curled up in the fetal position in the dark walk in closet. My blood sugar was under 50, my pulse was thready and faint, my bp so low no one could get a good read, and I was floating in and out of consciousness. This was my first suicide attempt, it should have been fatal. In fact, all of them should have, but each and every one had divine intervention. I woke up for a moment in the hospital and then again in a psych ward. I was FURIOUS. Dear goddess I couldn’t even kill myself correctly. I would love to say this is the day life started to improve. It wasn’t. It was the first day of the stickiest, heaviest, darkness that I have ever experienced. However, it took this day to bring me to where I am today. And, I love where I am today. I am grateful to the darkness for showing me where and how to heal. I am grateful for the darkness for teaching me how to love me. I am grateful for the darkness for teaching me how to sit with the heavy. I am grateful for the darkness for enveloping me for a while so that I could shine even brighter. I am grateful.