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 Master’s 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 children, young people, and others whose choices were taken from them; those 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.
Thank you for listening.
Much love,
Erliss, The Monkey Whisperer