For as long as I can remember, there has been some form of darkness in my life. When I say darkness, I mean an inner feeling of despair, weakness, fear, and anxiety that would make a horse drop dead.
As a small child, I use to love being outside. It was a form of peace for me. I was so captivated by nature and how I thought at the time everything worked. I would climb trees and watch birds in their nests, sit by the lake to watch the minnows swim. I would walk around in the rain, just to really grasp how it felt. I didn't realize that it was a way of coping. You see, I was raised by a single mother who had three other children with lots of needs. So I was quiet, I learned to be that way when my twin cried, or when my mother and her boyfriend yelled, and even when I was being sexually abused. I stayed quiet. I went outside, I watched the bird, the minnows and I climbed trees.
At the time I didn't know what darkness was, I just knew that I felt different. I felt scared. I had this horrible pain in my stomach that would lay me over and spare no mercy. I thought I was dying. As a little one, with no one to explain to you that its just anxiety, you tend to feel an overwhelming feeling of fear. I didn't have anyone to explain to me what my feelings were because no one really knew. No one knew I had been molested by the same person over and over and over again. No one saw the early signs of fear towards men. I went on unknowingly and scared.
When I came out about the abuse, it was pretty much tossed out of the window like last weeks garbage. Yes, the physical abuse stopped, but the mental abuse didn't. At that point in my life, my darkness began to really shape. I was very blinded though, my darkness was not something that a little mind could comprehend. In fact, when I had my first suicidal thought, I was so confused and sickened with pain. I knew I wanted to walk to the tracks and lay down. I know now that my first thought of killing myself started at the age of 8 and never stopped. I know that I could of come up with 10 ways to take the life from my body and now I could come up with 300. I think that is how my darkness grew. It was as small as a fire ant on a hot summer day in the middle of Springfield Georgia. Seemingly so minute but fierce underneath.
Ive always fought with this internal war, darkness, illness. Never really being able to put a name on it, until I started therapy. Major Depressive Disorder, Post-Tramatic Stress Disorder, Generalized Anxiety and possibly Borderline Personality. So many mental disorders with similar symptoms. I guess they couldn't make up their minds about what to call me so they slapped all the labels on. It must of been easier that way. I mean, I'm terrible at explaining my feelings out loud. Majority of the time the feeling doesn't make sense or I cannot identify it. I know that it is the darkness that grows inside of me.
Now, I am certain that most people think that there is a pill out there that would help. But let me tell you. I have been on more prescriptions than my age and I have yet to find long term relief. My darkness doesn't like to let me settle. It is a nasty beast that comes out at night to stir shit up. When I think that I am on the up, the shape of my darkness grows and over takes me, just like it does time and time again. I find myself feeling just as I did when I was a little girl, alone, afraid, fearful of my life though I still want to lay on the tracks. Yes, that sounds scary and in many ways leaves me so unsure and frustrated.
I am now 23. I am engaged. I am a first generation college graduate who is continuing my education. I am a daughter, a sister, aunt, niece, cousin and great grandchild. I am a hard worker. I still love nature. But I am also sick. I am sick with something so dark that the things that should matter to me just don't. I should want to fight for the people I love and the friends I have made. I should want to live and be a survivor not a victim of my environment or unfortunate circumstance. But I don't. That leaves me with another label. Suicidal. I have such a poor view of the value of my life that if death were to ask me permission, I would feel honored. How selfish right? Believe me, I know. I shouldn't feel that way because there are so many things that make life beautiful. But when the darkness that has manifested from a tiny fire ant into a roaring black bear has taken over, where is the hope? Where does hope lay when I am tangled up with a beast that doesn't seem to be letting loose.
I wake up in fear of what the day will bring. Will my darkness have remolded into a fire ant or will it be larger than the bear? What will the shape of my darkness become next?
