I understand the pain. The immense soul sucking sadness that will not leave. The kind that leaves you crying for death itself to take you in the night, and leaves you cursing the morning sun. I get it. I understand it. I know it. And perhaps that is what scares me the most. The knowing. The understanding of just how far and how deep, and how intense the pain is. That knowing that there is nothing I can do to ease it, or take it away, or change the minds of the ones dealing with it.
Not that many years ago, I too, was on the receiving end. The end that said death seemed welcoming. But death itself was too kind, and instead it was hell on earth until I figured out a way to fight back. And continue fighting. Because lets face it – this kind of pain, this wicked evil feeling of wanting nothing more than death, doesn’t just go away. Its there, no matter how long it has been – willing its way back into your life.
But seeing it in someone you love? Is perhaps harder than dealing with it yourself. Because you know.
You know that there is no way out except through. And you know that through is a journey you wouldn’t wish on anyone. You know that while the other side is better than where you were, the journey often closes in around you and there seems to be no way out. That when darkness is all that surrounds you, and there is no light of day to warm that terrible chill that settles somewhere way beyond your bones, you begin to seek those thoughts that you thought you left at the beginning.
Except you haven’t. And they will follow you all the way to the bitter end.
The internets lately, are seething with pain. And maybe its because I am in a place where the only the saddest of stories appeal to me, because I can relate. Because when you are in an area in life where everything seems to hurt, you don’t actively seek out those who are happy – but rather those who are in the trenches, slinging slime just like you. Because at least then, you aren’t alone. I haven’t had to look far. My reader oozes with pain and sadness from around the world and often leaves me wondering if there IS any good left in the world.
Or maybe its simply because I am looking for someone to say what I am feeling, with better words. Because words seem to fail me. As they always do. When I need them most.
It’s not ever a place in life I thought I would be. And its not really a place in life I care to be now. But as I have learned, so many, many times – it doesn’t matter what you want. It doesn’t matter where you wish to be, how you wish to live, who you wish to be like – you just are.
It’s hard, to find the words that I want, to sum up what I don’t want. It’s hard to verbalize just what is going on. In one sense, I think that if maybe I ignore it, don’t acknowledge it, it wont get a foot hold again. Yet on the other hand, I know that if I don’t acknowledge it, my mind will run miles before it comes home again. I’m not writing tonight, to make sense. I’m not writing to tell a story, or document an event. I’m just writing because I don’t know what else to do, and writing has always been that thing for me.
I’m writing to keep myself from that place, while trying to help others in that place, and somehow get us through these terrible bone chilling winters that seem to come all too early, and all too frequent.
Someone once told me to never ask the reason why. To not attempt to find the answer. And while I have always believed there is an answer, to the question why…I’m beginning to think, that perhaps, for once, there really isn’t.