There’s a lot on my mind and in my heart right now. My friend’s brother passed away earlier this week and the funeral was today (I'm writing this on a Saturday). It brings up a lot of emotions for various reasons. I don’t know the details surrounding his death. I don’t really want to know the details, though I do know that he took his own life. The first emotions I feel are shock and disbelief. I would never have thought that things were that bad for him and as far as I’m aware there is no mental illness in the family that might explain it. It’s normal to want to know why, but it doesn’t change the fact that it happened. It also brings up feelings of great sadness. Sadness for my friend and their families, for all those who remain to wonder and grieve. Feelings which are all hard, but also a normal part of the process.
What is unexpected is how quickly it brought me back to the
times in my life when I’ve been suicidal. I’ve never attempted suicide
formally, but I had planned how I would do it, I’ve written suicide notes, etc.
I know that darkness. I know that pain. I know that despair. I know that desire
for escape, for just wanting the pain to end.
But along with all that grief, there is also, deep within, a
feeling of relief. I can look back and see where I have been. Where I am
now is in such a better, healthier place than I’ve ever been. I’m immensely grateful.
I’m grateful that I survived. I’m grateful that I am no longer in those dark
places. I’m grateful to be in a much healthier place, mentally, emotionally,
spiritually, and physically. I’m not lucky. I’m not special. I’m not favored.
While I can’t go into all the details, the reason I’m still here is because my
Heavenly Father let me know that He was aware of me, that He was aware of my
pain, and that He wasn’t going to let me go without a fight. So I’m still here.
With lots of questions, but I’m still here!
I have been reflecting on this distance between the here and
now and the past – really the difference in who I am now from who I was in the past.
I haven’t shied away from sharing that I was a victim of abuse. I’ve mentioned –
without going into detail – that I’ve had my share of addictions. I was
traumatized in many ways, which left me believing that I was inherently
damaged, broken, and worthless as a result of all of these things happening in
my life. And I was resentful. Not only was I resentful that these things
happened to me, but I was resentful that I wasn’t given what I needed as a
child to combat these terrible events/circumstances. I wasn’t given confidence.
I wasn’t given the affection I longed for; the praise I sought so desperately
from my parents; the comfort and understanding I wanted from my mother; and the
sense of worth, importance, and “mattering” that I longed for from my father.
I’m not criticizing my parents here, even though it sounds like
it. They did the best they could, and from the little I know, they did better by
me than what they had been given from their own parents.
But that’s the idea I’ve focused on my whole life – what I should
have been given from my parents; or what I expected them to give
me. Which, on the surface, seems accurate – parents “give” their children a
sense of belonging, a sense of comfort, and sense of pride/confidence, a sense
of mattering to someone, as well as a sense of being loved, of worth, of safety,
etc.
And for most of my adult life, I believed those were things
I did NOT get from my parents. Which only added to feeling empty, worthless,
damaged, not good enough, etc. As if I’ve been walking through life with these
holes in me, these absences, that were supposed to be filled by my parents, but
weren’t. And I have felt despair, believing that filling those holes was a
one-shot deal, either they are “filled” in by your parents, or they are not;
and if they are not, well then, you’ve missed your chance and they are going to
remain empty for the rest of your life, because they could ONLY be filled at a
certain time in your life (i.e., childhood) and in a certain way (i.e., by parents).
But my reflections today on who I am and who I have been, has
changed my perspective on that.
For the last few years, I’ve been working on “filling those
missing pieces of myself.” I had finally decided that even if I wasn’t given the
things I felt I needed from my parents in order to feel whole, complete, and a
sense of worth, I could “resign” myself to learning how to fill those pieces in for myself. This, in and of itself, is a monumental
shift in changing my way of thinking. I still felt some resentment at needing
to fill in those missing pieces on my own, but it was the first time I felt
hope at being able to fill in those pieces, i.e., have my needs met – even if I
did have to do it on my own!
Overall, I would say that it has been working. It has helped
me to reach a better place where I know I have to do what I’m doing to help
myself, because I am the only one who can help myself right now, and that’s
okay – in fact, this has been a really important lesson for me to learn.
In order to make another point here, I want to relate a work
experience I had several years ago. For a time I was working as a Home Health
Speech-Language Pathologist, which meant going to people’s homes to provide
rehab on speech, language, voice, swallowing, etc. I recall one particular time,
where I had gone to an Assisted Living Facility in Bountiful to treat a lady
that had been having some swallowing issues. She was a sweet lady, but my heart
went out to her – she was in her late 60’s, very overweight, living in an
electric wheelchair and I could just see that life had been hard for her.
Sometimes, when you’ve been through a certain kind of darkness, you recognize
it in others.
We had met for a couple of sessions, and I had been teaching
her some exercises for swallowing. On this particular visit, we went through
the routine exercises and I could see some improvement, which I always make a
point to recognize for my patients. I told her, fairly simply, though sincere, “hey,
you did really well with those exercises, I can tell that you’ve been
practicing.” I paused for just a second, and then added, “I’m really proud of
you.”
She reacted almost as if she was startled, and then started
to cry – which startled me! I asked her if I did or said something wrong, and
through her sweet, innocent tears said something that broke my heart. She said,
“no one’s ever said that to me before.” I jumped up out of my chair and gave
her a big hug; I mean, what else could I do?!
It broke my heart to think that this sweet woman had lived
her whole life, never hearing that she had made anyone proud. And it sounds
like such a simple thing, but it also broke my heart for another reason – I had
lived my whole life never hearing anyone say that to me either. I wanted so
much to make my dad proud, or my mom, and I had never, ever felt like I did.
Partially because I knew what terrible choices I had made, but also because I
believed who I was, was inherently disappointing. I mean, how could any parent
be proud of a son who is overweight, ugly, unaccomplished at anything, and gay?
I actually have a vivid memory of my dad telling me once that he was
disappointed in me. It was only once, but I knew it was how he truly felt about
me, because I never heard him say otherwise. And if that’s how my own father
felt about me, then what else was I to believe?
I really couldn’t have known what impact the words I spoke
would have on this woman, but my words were sincere and I think that’s why they
were powerful for her.
Today, as I reflected on that experience, I saw something
else in it that I had never considered before: I gave this woman something
that had never been given to me. How is that possible? If I never made
anyone proud, and I had that as an emptiness within me, then how could I have given
that to her? The only answer that makes sense to me, is that I wasn’t empty
of this thing, as I had led myself to believe. I suddenly realized that it’s
also possible that I never really have been “empty” of anything. That maybe,
just maybe, all of those “needs” that I thought could only be granted by loving
parents, were not really missing from me after all. Maybe they’ve been there
all along, but I just couldn’t see them, because I “thought” they were missing.
Maybe it isn’t that parents are supposed to give you
those things that are part of your identity, but maybe they are supposed to help
you discover them within yourself. Yes, it is just as unfortunate and sad
for anyone who doesn’t have parents or an upbringing that can help them see their
worth and value and importance, but it’s not because those things are missing. Would
I have wanted my parents to show me those parts of myself? Of course! I will
always look back and I will always have wanted that, but for the first time in
my life, I don’t feel empty.
I need to say that again: For the first time in my life, I
don’t feel empty.
The irony is not lost on me. I have felt empty my whole life
and I now believe that I have been perpetually trying to “fill” those needs
with anything that would make me feel good – and what better way to feel good
than to eat? So I ate. A lot. (It’s also not lost on me how ironic it is that
feeling so empty inside would result in me gaining so much on the outside! As
if my waistline were trying to compensate for the void I felt within.)
If I had it within me to be able to tell this woman that I
was proud of her, then I suppose I have it within me to tell myself that I am
proud of me. And just to be clear, I’m not talking about “comparison-pride.”
I’m not talking about the pride that makes a comparison and says, “I’m better
than…” No, I’m talking about “confidence-pride,” or maybe a better word is “assurance-pride.”
The kind of pride that comes from the confidence, or the assurance, that you
have inherent worth and value, simply for being who you are, and not in comparison
to someone else.
It's hard in this world we live in. It’s hard to not
compare. It’s hard to look at someone else’s life and NOT make some kind of
comparison. Everything in the world invites that comparison; wants you to
believe that you aren’t good enough, smart enough, talented enough, accomplished
enough, strong enough, good looking enough, etc. I certainly bought into that
idea. I wholeheartedly bought into that idea. And lived in misery and despair
because of it; because I compared myself and was always lacking.
I understand, now, that my formative years contained
experiences that prevented me from seeing what I had within myself, from seeing
my worth, in fact. But I also now see that I wasn’t ever really lacking
anything within, I just couldn’t see it.
I don’t know if this insight that I’ve had will help anyone
else. I don’t know if anyone else will really even understand it, but I hope
that if someone reading this feels empty inside, I want you to know that you
aren’t. You already have everything within you that you need to heal, and to be
whole, and to feel your own worth and value. It will take some faith and it will
take some practice, but you can do it.
Because you have it within you.
