I was born in the year of the monkey. This should make me an upbeat, happy-go-lucky sort of gal. I am grateful – I have been clean and sober since age 16. I work a couple of 12 step programs, have a Masters degree in music performance and a Master of Divinity degree. I am ordained. I love people, I love silliness, I love laughter. I will do anything to make a child giggle.
But I have depression, post traumatic stress disorder, anxiety and other issues that make it difficult to experience joy, or to feel…my self. From ages 13 to 25 I was hospitalized 10 times for suicide attempts, drug and alcohol abuse, eating disorders, and just losing my mind. I have never been quite “right.” Every day I still wander close to the borderlands.
For the sake of clarity, I am committed to life. I do not write this blog so that you can read my downhill decline to the depths of Sheol, never to return. I write this to give voice to the suffering, for those who struggle every day to choose life. I write in memory and honor of the girls and boys, men and women, whose choices were taken from them, who could not feel the life force breathing through them anymore, whose pain and fear were too heavy a burden.
And I write for myself. I am anonymous so I can be honest. I am attempting to feel the moments – the stabbing pains of grief, the sensations of losing my breath, the urges to self-injure or will myself dead, and the wondering if I am maybe already…gone. I am told our traumas often live (and re-live) in our bodies; I hope that my body will process what it needs to be…well, to be.
I know there are others who experience similar pangs. I encourage you to be curious about your self, even your suffering. Hold your pain like a screaming newborn. And when she is too heavy, too loud, let someone you trust take over. If a newborn baby doesn’t work for you, how about a kitten or a puppy or…a newborn monkey. They are cute even when they misbehave, and everyone loves them.
Much love,
Erliss, The Monkey Whisperer