TW: self-harm and suicide
I have come to believe the greatest pain in the world is being unseen. Having your pain unacknowledged and the causes for it unaddressed contributes to a loneliness like no other. The most significant aspect of this is it can lead you to avoid contact and community. Neglect is an apocalyptic weapon carelessly wielded. The wounds it inflicts are characterized by mistrust for others.
Often for everyone.
The worst things happen in circumstances like these. Even the very worst thing—loss of life.
I was recently devastated at this type of news about someone to whom I gave far more than I could afford when my life was at its worst. While I will conceal all identifying details for the privacy of those involved, this loss has shaken me and leaves me asking, why didn’t I do more?
The answer to that question arrives instantly (because I had no more to give) followed by other questions, did what I gave matter? Did my sacrifices make a difference? Did my presence make this person feel loved or safe if even for a moment?
But none of this matters now. I know the overwhelm of neglect. I know how the past can exert false power over the present. Musings about what I could have done are of little consequence and only seek to soothe my own conscience.
I will myself to stop such self-centered attempts to avoid responsibility and pain. I am one of many who will carry the weight of this loss.
It is not about me.
These are common thoughts we wrestle with in the wake of a death but in situations of lives being cut very short, they are more haunting. I wish I had done and said more. I saw the demons behind the eyes of another human and they were so like my own—the outgrowth of abuse and neglect. Different root causes, yes but not being seen is a badge of heaviness easily perceived if you can handle the pain of seeing it.
Many cannot. We aren’t taught how to address the voids left in the people we encounter. We aren’t encouraged to respond to the deep needs of others. We expend so much energy wondering if we ourselves are responsible for the pain we see in those around us that we never ask the simple questions that would make all the difference. Questions with answers to show us that we weren’t the one who caused harm but we might be one who could provide healing and relief.
Why is it so terrifying to feel powerless in the crisis of another?
Instead, we learn to commend people for being strong when the results of what damaged them hurts us to hear about.
News of this loss arrived after days of emotional despair over situations in my own family. I don’t often talk about abandonment by my family of origin. I don’t want you to know this because it seems too strong a referendum on my worth.
The query my mind brings too often to the forefront, if my own family doesn’t accept me, does anyone?
Of course, I know their desertion has little to do with me and much more to do with them. For as long as I can remember, I betrayed them by calling out behavior that was hurting me and as I saw it, all of us. I am not sorry for that. Someone needed to even though it was to no avail.
For many years, that took the form of a young girl yelling that being yelled at was wrong. I understood the irony of this but my mom’s perpetual screaming coupled with my dad’s stoic silence wrecked my nervous system and led me to become a fantastic actor, a tiny girl towing a very heavy line of duty to family above all else.
This never led me to take my own life but I understand how and why it has for others. Because it did lead me to a walking form of death as I sold my life to a “man” who gave me far heavier, lifelong responsibilities to carry.
Perhaps ending one’s life is the ultimate act of self-preservation of the soul. After all, the number of pieces into which it can be torn is finite.
The heart can break in countless ways and into infinite shards. The soul, however, is essential in ways many do not realize. When a child—whether young or as an adult— receives a clear, unchanging message that she/he is no longer wanted, the soul cleaves from self-will.
When self-will dominates and the soul finds no place of rest, it tears away from the anchor point for self-worth and hope.
When seeing our own worth becomes harder, hope is lost and spiraling ensues.
The betrayal of children by their parents is always devastating. It cannot be anything but. For those who have not experienced this, the struggles of those of us who have seem overblown, needy and altogether too much.
It is up to us who continue on in life with these wounds to link up and hold space for each other’s pain and to fuel the flickering state of our self-worth.
I sit now in reflection of how clearly I saw this in another. I didn’t follow up as time went by because in many ways, I never knew this person well enough.
With great shame, I admit that I think I know them better in death than I did in life. Without my stubborn, desperate belief in the worth God sees in me, my life too could have ended sooner.
In the end, though, all I can do is put my grieving words out into the world. The burden of not doing enough is heavy. The knowledge that I didn’t have capacity for more is far heavier.
Being a woman often means stretching your availability to others far beyond what is reasonable. I’ve learned to pull back on that tendency.
But in retrospect…just this once…I wish I had overextended myself even more…even to the point of breaking.
To save a life that mattered. To love someone whose family treated as an inconvenience. To someone with whose pain I could deeply identify.
My heart wants to pass judgement on myself and force me to admit that I looked away when it mattered most that I stayed engaged.
The weight of my bones reminds me that I, too, was drowning when our paths crossed.
All I know is that right now it feels like I ran out of runway to share at the exact wrong time for someone I can no longer help.