A Bright Light Amongst Dark Thoughts

September is suicide prevention month. 

We can talk statistics:

In 2018, 7,254 Albertans visited the Emergency Department for suicide attempts.

50% of all visits were made by YOUTH, ages 0-24.

3 out of 4 suicide deaths are male.

Almost 50% are middle-aged men, ages 40-64. 

63-67% of LGTBQ+ youth, ages 14-25, report thoughts about suicide.

Suicide is 5 to 6X higher for Indigenous youth than non-Indigenous youth.

Every year, more Albertans die by suicide than the number of people who in die in motor vehicle collisions.

But statistics are not the actual people. Statistics aren’t the ones who look into that abyss. Statistics aren’t the ones who can’t look away and get swallowed by it. Statistics aren’t the ones who can look away and crawl out of the abyss’s tar like grip. Statistics aren’t the ones that struggle, to keep those thoughts away.

Suicide is not malicious.

Suicide is not cowardly.

Suicide is not selfish.

Suicide is not loud.

Suicide is not attention seeking.

Suicide is desperate for relief from pain, mental and/or physical.

Suicide is a release from torment.

Suicide is because of being tired of being a burden.

Suicide is to quiet the inner monsters who have stolen the outer voice.

Suicide is when there seems to be no other relief to be found anywhere.

I have lost people to that abyss.

I have almost lost myself into that abyss.

I have had mental health problems since I was a child. Not diagnosed until I was older, but in looking back, markers had been there since my earliest trauma. I am also genetically wired to be susceptible to mental illness and addiction. 

The first time I remember wanting to end my life was maybe a year after my Mother died. I would have been 13. The weight of the shattered pieces of my life were too much. I never had a concrete plan at that time, I was numb then, I  knew I wanted my life to fade to black, to match the way I felt inside. 

I was so full, that I couldn’t feel. It is about the time that the self harm behaviour began. 

Rather than take my life in one swoop, I did it in chunks. I began to outwardly (I’ll be it secretly) hurt myself, as well as engage in risky behaviour. Cutting, underage drinking, taking drugs…… by the age of 15 this included promiscuity too. Allowing myself to remain in violent situations. All with the secret ‘hope’ that one of these things might accidentally go too far, and end me. At least then it would be over and no one’s fault. 

Counselling? Yep… many times over the years. I can relay, in a very dry way the things I have experienced. I can join into my own analyzing with the best of them. The ‘rational” vs ‘non rational’ internal conversation does not change. 

Medication? That too, has been explored in many forms. While I see the wonderful things these meds can offer, I have never found one that has worked effectively for me. 

I have, over the years built weaponry and armour to protect myself and battle the mental monsters that live inside my head. I continually do the work, some days are great, some days are good and some days are hell. Some days I feel engaged with the life around me, other days I am detached and isolated.

There are many facets to my journey in my shadow side. 

I lead a very full life. A career I love, I have the honour of helping people. I am the mother to two incredible humans. I have amazing experiences, adventures and connections.

I carry the battle scars of my life.

Why have I wanted to just not be here? To die? Because it hurts, the world hurts, I am easily wounded, the noises too loud, light to bright, words to harsh, humans too uncaring- it can be an unbelievable amount of pain. I feel invisible, unworthy, damaged, a needy void that will never be satiated. This manifests physical pain at times, and when it doesn’t, I pray it will- to make it easier to explain. The fog that comes with the roaring screams of my mental monsters threatens at times to obscure me. 

It was never as revenge, (they’ll be sorry they were mean to me). It was never for attention or drama, (at least now I will have some attention).

Why am I still here? Some days I can answer confidently and without hesitation. I am loved. I have a job to do. I am needed, I matter. I am determined. I am in love with the magic of life. 

Sometimes it takes me time to answer this, sometimes I am unsure. Sometimes I am angry that I am.

It has been almost three decades since my last ‘serious’, planned attempt. I would love to say those dark feelings are not a part of my current battles with my monsters. But they are there, The underlying whispers behind the screaming refrain of ‘you are not worthy’, ‘you are not needed’, ‘you are not valued’, ‘everyone will see you for the damaged fraud you are.’

I empathize with anyone choosing suicide. I know that desperation. That pain. Not feeling heard. Not feeling seen. Afraid to ask for help, not just because of the courage and vulnerability it takes, but for the fear of being turned away, turned down, ignored.

While I appreciate the attempt to normalize these conversations, the campaigns encouraging people to ask for help, the posters with positive affirmations, etc…..But here in lies the rub, most of us in that real dark place can’t (or won’t ) ask for help, let alone your time. We are frozen on the path. We can’t hear platitudes above the din of the fog. We fundamentally know : “it’s not that bad. It will get better, but……..” 

There are things I have yearned for when I am on that dark side, that I am mindful to offer when I am in the light. 

I have learned the value of sitting with someone in their dark, (holding space), just a hug and quiet acceptance that even in their mess they are valued.

I truly try to listen, validate the pain they are experiencing, their story as they are living it. 

I try very hard not to give advice, (unless asked), most times people just need to speak their truth out loud to hear their own answers they carry.

I try not to point out positivity unless it is sought out, Most often people know the wheel will turn, but they want to talk the moment, not what’s to come. 

I try very much to see the people I engage with, the beauty in their flaws, their wholeness.

I try to be aware, because we all carry some shadow, we all carry some pain and sometimes we all need help. And most times we will not ask.

I try to check in with those that I can, especially given the times we are in. Just to let them know someone is here.

I am not ashamed of my anxiety disorder. 

I am not ashamed for having stared into that abyss. 

I am not ashamed for sharing my story. 

I am humbled I have found a way to remain, when others have not.

For as long as I can, I will Always Keep Fighting. For myself. For you. 

My Steady

Inspired by my encounter with the old man at the train I was called to visit another Old Man on my way home.

Although my to do pile threatens to topple at any moment I had to take the time to come and see my steadfast friend.

He listens with out judgment. He does not tell me I’m dramatic. He lets me lean in, and does not shift away. He has seen my true broken self, heard my anguished cries, my whispers of joy, my tenuous hope and still welcomes me to the quiet safe haven.

I am sinking. I am in pain. I am overwhelmed. I am overwrought. I have failed at so much.

My words feel lost. I feel ungrateful. I feel selfish. I feel invisible. I feel exhausted. I weep at his feet. I try to slow my breath to match his ancient rhythm. I try hard to hear his message from the Gods.

For a moment there is stillness. For a moment the monsters stop talking. For a moment…….

As I take my leave, I let the late summer sun dry my tears. I give thanks for the gift he has been in my life. Off to do battle once more.

Dawn

Dawn is coming later and later now. The cool chill of the navy and grey are what I am met with on my way in the morning. The first hint of light reaching up. At first the darkness still seems oppressive, to push back the coming light. But the golds and oranges gain power as they cut through and begin to illuminate the horizon.

This is symbolic of the ‘always tomorrow’. The light will come, the dark will recede to corners and cliffs.

AKF

Writers Block

I’ve been trying to write for weeks.

It is something that sustains me, it is something that heals me and when I don’t feel heard it as a way to make my voice amplified, to connect and not feel so stuck in my head.

There’s been points in my life where I stepped away from it, much to my detriment.

A few years back, with a renewed energy the stories began to pour out, I committed to working on the shadow side of myself, and from there a few narratives were born. There was some collaboration, tidal wave of inspiration and such trust that the stories and essays would flow.

While this particular bout of writer’s block feels like it came on just after the start of the pandemic, truly, when I look back, it has been a slow death since last fall.

First the fiction. There was the death of two cherished characters. They showed such promise and longevity, and were exhilarating to write.

But unfortunately that once promised epic story has became representative of what has become a bittersweet and painful period for me. In a tortuous narrative, (as devastating as I felt) they met their end. Silenced, stopped in mid journey. In the ether they now languish.

Though I did find the courage just before shut down to submit a short version to a few publications.

There has been a fair amount of interest in what may have come next and some suggestions for editing. The real possibilities to see it in print.

But now I am frozen. I can not bring myself to open the file, to polish it up and let it move forward. I did not anticipate how raw I still feel about all that was lost at that time, including the grief about the two leads. How much I miss them. How much they still have to say.

I’ve been able to hiccup some poems and the odd paragraph out, but even the ability to write essays has withered.

Those are my best connection to navigate the world around me and my mental health. But it has been near impossible to write anything I feel confident with.

I want to add hope, insight and support to the people that read my stuff. But all I can muster is despondent rage, and no adequate words to explain.

Life as we knew it has always had its hardships. But this global clusterfuck has added a layer of grimy soot that has not left anyone untouched.

I wait… wait for the words to come. I hope that there are characters choose to speak. I hope the characters ( myself) I laid waste to may someday forgive me. I wait for wisdom, knowledge and hope to share. I wait for the insight to be able to move through, over, under or around this block that feels insurmountable.

I wait….

Realizations of the soul

I closed my eyes to the sun. It’s early morning fire burning behind my lids. Do the Gods hear me?

I pray the heat ignites my determination. Keep moving forward, it’s the only place to go.

Pull the brambles from my cloak as I keep moving towards the light, away from this dark bog, fraught with prickles, poisonous thorns and things that bite from the shadows.

I call out, the echo answers.

Exhausted, my flesh longs to rest on the cool moss, allowing the bog to swallow me whole.

Slow through the mud, each step a 1000 pounds.

Will I find myself? Will I find the soul kin I believed were there? Was this all just a theatre for the trickster’s amusement?

When I was nameless, I could feel them, hear them.

I claimed my name, they faded violently from my grasp.

I open my eyes to the sun. Memories serve only to puncture.

The only message from the Gods is too keep moving, nameless once again.

Moon

I closed my eyes. Let Her silver glow wash over me.

The words I long to have heard, I speak to Her through still lips.

The coolness of the air prickling my skin, little reminders of how alive I really am.

My cheeks are wet, I am comforted by her soft embrace.

Blessed are the children of the Moon, for no Mother is more forgiving of our shortcomings than She.

DM.

Downturn in Covid-Upturn in Human Rights and The Mental Monster Dance

I woke up at 2 am feeling sick, dizzy and weepy. The monsters are loud today. 

It’s been a couple of weeks since my anxiety had gotten the better of me. And for that I’m proud that I have been keeping it at bay. Given what’s going on globally, personally and adding the extra fun of a full moon and eclipse just to rev things up, it hasn’t been easy to keep my own monsters quiet. 

I had stepped outside of my own head in some ways in this last while. But I have had to look at my own self and the system I was born into. I have wept for the dead and the oppressed. 
I have equally wept and been enraged by the system I live in. A system that does not really protect women, but I’m still steps ahead on that being white and not a POC. I am enraged at knowing having mental health issues have also put me in a place to be judged and vulnerable, but I’m still steps ahead because I am white and not a POC. 

I know I am still privileged. I have spent this last while trying to learn. Learn the permissive history that allows this. Not the stuff we’ve been taught ( the bullshit written by the oppressors), but the stories and history of the real people that have all been but buried deep. I have been reading, watching and asking questions so I can put my voice and my privilege to better use. 

I have taken for granted that my fight for mental health, my fight for feminism, my allyship with LGBTQ was enough, I was woke.

I have now been schooled, that while these are very valid, very needed battles, but I have been over looking the very real need for inclusion and visibility for POC in these causes as well. That my voice could not just represent my point of view of feeling oppressed within these channels ( it feels wrong to even say that atm), I now need to champion, and pull forward with me the POC fighting for survival every day with these same issues, only compounded and very oppressed due to the colour of their skin. I have committed in my heart to keep learning, listening and doing what I can, from where I am. 

But today my battle is mine. There are still very hard moments of my own self journey that easily defeat me. I woke, not only with the big physical symptoms of a major ‘mental monster take down’ but a random list on screaming repeat in my head. 

  • why are you trying to help the world at large when you still have so much mess of your own? 
  • You are not enough to do anything helpful
  • Why do you keep letting the same things in to eat at you? 
  • You get played so easily, and you are stupid for believing in the good of people. 
  • You don’t mean nearly as much to those around you as you think. 
  • I’m told I have a great ability to read people and see who they really are meant to be. I want to trust that. I know I see that. Yet I am left with confusion about why some things are the way they are, and if I really have that ability or I’m just foolish in empathy and forgiveness? 
  • I am fearful, I have asked some questions that there have been no answers to, or confusing signs ( I see those often too, but am now prone to second guessing).
  • Needing answers – so I can quit having the possible false narratives rolling around my head and be able to cleanly heal, move forward and get what I need. 
  • I need my emotional and rational brain to work together, when it comes to my own matters.
  • I have to stop needing to believe I should matter to all those who, at some point mattered so much to me, needing to be validated that I gave something good, that distance isn’t always my fault, that I am not hated or disrespected. That I am not the monster I have been made to feel I am.
  • I need to remember even though the defeating silence and invisibility I feel rip at me, there is someone, somewhere who hears and sees, and it matters, I just might not know it. 
  • That my discomfort in some situations does not mean enough to be eased by the people around and I should take it for the warning it is…. this is the hardest. For the acceptance of this will change some fundamental things in my life, some connections and events I viewed very differently than what they are really appearing to be. This will change how and why I connect with people. This will take work to not let it make me bitter while I work through living grief and disappointment. 

Today my battle is within. Today I must reestablish the team I need ( now that Covid is easing) to willingly and supportively help me move mentally, emotionally and physically forward. Today I need myself more than others need me. When I can muster getting myself off the floor, dry my eyes, and straightening my crown, I will once again raise my voice, not only for me, but for those that need it more. AKF 💜

After This Week

What I am going to do to help. 

I will show up. 

I will ask questions.

I will be willing to listen openly.

I will be willing to learn.

I will be willing to stand by those of any colour, orientation, gender, and faith- with the understanding that they to should be willing to stand by others. 

I will use my place and my voice to raise awareness, educate and change.

I admit that I have biases I have never really questioned. 

I admit that I have stood by the sidelines because ‘it doesn’t really affect me.’

I admit that there are experiences I will never have due to who I am.

I am sad. I am angry. I am horrified.

I am hopeful. I am ready to fight for you.