NOTE: This may be a difficult post to read. If you are struggling, please call or text 988 for help.
In the news, the alarm is sounding about the rise in suicides, addiction and overdoses. Over 49,000 took their lives last year according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. There is a struggle to understand the whys and how comes these tragedies happen. This is one perspective from personal experience and what I have learned.
As someone who has struggled with chemical dependency/addiction and still struggles with suicide ideation having made several attempts, it is not an easy place to climb out of. In my experiences, it is an accumulation of events that led me here.
It began in early childhood. I learned, and it was constantly reinforced, that I was the source of great unhappiness for my mother. She would, due to her own childhood pain, project her guilt and shame onto me, and this then turned into hatred. I believe she tired of feeling that shame and guilt and hated me as I was a constant reminder of her traumatic childhood events and the indiscretion that resulted in her getting pregnant with me that was not her husband. She lived her life in a state of numbness and rage in order to cope. The rage would build then blow up. Her reactions resulted in doing and saying horrifying things to me, with the fall out onto my siblings.
Every day, she told me how it was my fault her life was awful; she wished I hadn’t been born; she wished I was dead. Her daily life was miserable. My father’s childhood was also difficult. His way of coping was to act out his rage and violence toward me and others in the family. It was the foundation for feeling worthless, disposable and unlovable.
Growing up I often wondered why I was even in that house. For years I believed there had been a huge mistake. I didn’t belong there. I waited for my real parents to come get me. Dissociation became my way to survive. It was a very lonely existence. Even my younger siblings were shaped into treating me poorly as part of their survival. School and riding the school bus resulted in daily bullying, taunts and putdowns. It was another reinforcement and confirmation that I was not wanted and did not belong.
The two things that affected me most growing up were being sentenced to silence and to comply or die. I was told that I could never tell anyone what was going on as it would destroy our family. That it was my ultimate responsibility to hold the image of a functioning family even though it was in grave dysfunction, powerlessness and manipulation. I was the poster child of being the problem. My parents made sure they pointed to me when things were shaky. If I balked at being raped or hit, I had two choices, comply or die. There was a part of me who wanted to live, so I reluctantly chose to comply to appease those who had power over me.
When I was 15, I had reached the end of my coping abilities and attempted suicide. It put the house into a real tizzy, wondering how they would explain this situation. It turned further into hopelessness of the crushing responsibility of keeping those deep, dark secrets when the doctor believed them that I was the big problem.
Damage can come from many sources: family, neighbors, relatives, school, babysitters, foster care, bullies, condemnation from some denominations, physical assaults, child sexual abuse, emotional abuse, financial abuse and poverty to name a few. It accumulates until it becomes so overwhelming, and as children, we do not have a fully developed adult brain to develop safe coping strategies to align with adult situations. Instead, we do what we have to do to survive. We use addiction, mental illness, self-harm, insomnia, dissociation, cutting, alcohol, pills, video games, television, sleeping, ruminating, eating, not eating, running away, all to keep us buried in a state of numbness and some semblance of retaining what little control we have in our life to shelter from pain. Our bodies and minds are hyper-vigilant and on high-alert which affects our central nervous system as we’re always on alert for the next attack. Anticipating and watching for the “tells” as we brace ourselves for the next trauma, the next betrayal.
So let us pull back the curtains of what is likely underneath all of this. As I mentioned earlier, it is not just one thing, one event, one snide and nasty remark. It is an accumulation of barbs, taunts, degrading and disparaging words, physical jabs and hits, sexual assaults, constantly being emotionally beat up and the bullying that digs deeper and deeper into our psyche, thus reinforcing how worthless and undesirable we are. All to get rid of us, with the goal of carving us out of the social fabric and into isolation.
Most of us internalize all of this pain while some choose to act out, pushing back against bullies and innocent people, using violence to be heard for their pain. Yet most of us suffer in silence, pulling further inward, punishing ourselves. When the pain and grief reach a threshold we can no longer tolerate, we seek out other ways to cope and self-medicate. We do or use whatever it takes to move back into a numb place so we can operate with little to no emotions. We may even have a vacant look—no one home.
When the pain continues to burrow deeper and wider, people can choose to up their intake of chemicals (or other distractions) to get deeper to that numb place, that false sense of controlling the overwhelm, pain and grief. This occurs especially when it turns into phantom-like pains that go everywhere. Imagine shaking a two-liter bottle of soda, how much that pressure expands and eventually blows. We try to keep it all stuffed down not wanting to blow into rage or tears. Suicide can become an appealing option when we can no longer stop the pain and deep ache of loneliness. We are exhausted from the inner turmoil of fighting the inside war of anger, rage and deep grief. We feel we have reached the end of options where exiting looks like the only way to stop this incredible pain and futility.
We look for comfort in the turmoil but there does not seem to be much to be found. It becomes a daily hell. We still get up to go to work, participate when we can, do what we can, hibernate, isolate, collapse inward. There are some who may not recall what happened to them, (buried memories), that know something is off and choose to use self-medication to contain phantom problems.
Isolation seems like a better choice rather than trying to put on a happy face. It can be easier than sharing the struggles and frankly, we believe our friends and family get tired of hearing about our daily challenges or that we are in another downward spiral. They give up on us, too. We learn not to bother them or they will walk away. Or they don’t understand then point back to comment how we are living in the past. There obviously is something so wrong with us which continues that internal shame.
Often, when we try to share what is going on with friends and family, we can end up being dismissed which creates more isolation and loneliness. Just. Shut. Up! I learned not to bother anyone. To just keep to myself. I don’t matter anyway so what.
The ultimate stab of pain, adding shame and blame occurs when someone who hears about our traumas chooses to glibly inform us that we must have done something terrible in our past lives to warrant this abuse and therefore deserve it. God is punishing us or we wouldn’t have to go through the extreme painships. We were dreadful children. More character assassination. “Have you tried forgiveness? You have to forgive them. Why are you hanging on to all of that? Just forgive and forget.” It adds more shame and blame resulting in deeper isolation and loneliness. Likely, it also creates uncomfortableness talking about this painful stuff for both.
We who struggle with being marginalized, lonely, isolated, unworthy, different, ugly, unwanted and unaccepted, grasp for a way to cope with the pain and brokenness inside. PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) results. The longer it stays stuffed, the greater the hold it has on us and shatters our internal view of who we are and takes longer for recovery. On the outside, we can look okay, productive, engaged, functional. Inside, the damage has been done. We feel hopeless and helpless. We get to the stage where our coping strategies no longer work. The addiction ramps up in order to deal with the anxiety, stress, out-of-control circumstances, being weary and exhausted which often can result in greater use of drugs/alcohol/other choices to push down the fear, rage and grief. We can get to a desperate state, take too much and overdose and/or end life as either an accident or suicide as we so desperately want the grip of pain and futility to end.
After I stopped self-medication and became sober (pills 38 years and alcohol 37 years), I still struggled with the pain and poor self-esteem. I reached out for a variety of therapy, groups and worked inch by inch to find meaning. I added spirituality to my life. When I kept busy, I would go and go until I was too exhausted to feel, then drop into bed using other coping strategies. It is a weary way to live.
Three years ago, I was in a very dark place and contemplated giving up. I had a plan but no date. I know people said they cared about me. I also knew that even if they were sad when I was gone, they would be able to move on with their lives and I’d be a blip on their radar. It couldn’t be the reason for me to stay. I finally came out of it. No one reason, just time passing and me postponing it one more day, then one more day until finally the dark lifted. No one knew I was in that place, as I chose not “to bother” anyone of course.
Later, in a casual conversation with my son, I mentioned I came through “the dark night of the soul”. His face looked pained. He told me he had been through enough people dying by suicide in his life. He could not take any more. He begged me to not ever do it. I realized that while others would move on with their lives, he would not and be devastated. It was a reality check and wake-up call. I knew with certainty that I could never do that to him. What a challenge it is to decide to bear your own pain so as not to contribute to another’s. One ends, the other begins. One begins and the other ends.
I also knew a number of people who chose suicide. When I think about a friend who died that way, I often wondered what if she had waited one more day. Went to bed to try again tomorrow. Chose to see life from the light of another day. Begin to focus on the healing process. We have been placating other people’s comfort at the expense of ourselves. Family loyalty that comes at your expense is not love; it is control. This way, they can continue to make you their excuse and continue their damaging behaviors, which are often generational. When I was able to let go of that misplaced responsibility, I felt the weight of what I carried for others begin to lift and lighten.
Loneliness can make things worse. Hopefully there is a kind person who can stand by you as you go through this. Someone who says let’s go do something like grab coffee, mini-golf, movie, gaming or simply immerse yourselves in nature. Nature is our peaceful friend. My friend has a tree she talks to. I have also found that pets are wonderful, if that is an option for you. They can offer safety, comfort and affection, an opportunity to care for someone and is there with you.
I also make to do lists so I can choose what I am up for, allowing me to get things done no matter how small. I choose to do something to get outside myself and this helps me feel like I am moving forward out of the darkness.
As I grew, I moved through relationships to find other things to talk about, share, do adventures and travel in order to connect with others and not let the past totally consume or define me. Releasing unsupportive/uncaring people and family from my circle has added greater peace in my life. I have replaced them with others who have become my family. It has shaped my life. It is not about getting over the past; it is learning to move through and get on to something better instead of bitter. After years, I have begun to let my heart crack open and let the love and light in.
I have accepted my limitations. This is what I can do today. I have lived in fear that if I stop the “doing” (i.e., make the bed, do dishes, clean), I would end up catatonic. We can begin to reclaim parts of ourselves a piece at a time from all that was taken, shattered and split off. Find just one reason, even if it is a small one, that can grow into the choice to stay here.
Any day you take a step forward and bravely reach out for help is the day healing and peace can begin. Please seek out a therapist who will understand in a non-judgmental way and walk with you through this difficult trek to peace and freedom. Someone who can encourage you to celebrate the little victories. Don’t give up until you find that connection. Initially it can feel overwhelming. Piece by piece one wobbly step at a time.
No matter how I feel, dark nights and slivers of light, I will continue to try to carry on with grace. I know I can be imperfectly perfect, sober and accept that I am loved, worthy, wanted and important–even when some days it is hard to believe. Remember, we shouldn’t have to die to find peace. We are stronger than we think we are. If we made it through the trauma, we can learn to live in the now, minute by minute. We don’t need to be fully healed to deserve love and good things in life.
REMEMBER: Call or text 988 to reach out for help for your own mental health.
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