When do we start smiling again?

How long are we supposed to be sad? How long are we supposed to cry? How long before the pain that lingers under our anger turns into wrath?
How long can you stand when it overcomes you?

What is the meaning of this and why do we even bother to pretend?

Those are the questions I looked for an answer since my brother died. It has been 15 years. And for 11 years I avoided all of them, thinking I could not take the pain, pretending everything was ok when it was not.

11 years later the pain was not gone, not at all. It got even worse. It had turned into anger, and wrath. It had grown in the silence I had created, in the denial I needed to survive. Too much pain, too much pain had happened since then, a rape, years of abuse from the people who were supposed to love me and protect me. All these I just tried to keep in that dark place somewhere inside of me and all of sudden it burst out.

So what do we do now?
You call us survivors but are we, really?

I still can see beauty outside, I can see beauty in the birds I feed every morning, I see beauty in the sea I see every day, but if you ask me to look at myself all I see is oblivion. I see no future, I see no career, I see no family.

This is how I feel and think. This is me. I am twisted between the urge of living, the craving of discovering the world and the desire of finding myself in a retreat where no one else would be allowed.

You can be depressed and still « functioning », you can be depressed and still do your job, you can be depressed and still talk to people. You can be depressed and still live and want to live…

I have spent a decade of pretending, 4 more years to try to eradicate something that is not going anywhere. It is part of me, it is not all of me, I will not allow that, I will let it win and overcomes when it needs to be because it needs to be heard. I hurt. I need to let it out so that I can get back to being me again. The old me. the little girl full of life. The one I used to like. The one who is not afraid of speed and who loves adventure.

I need to be sad to be happy. That dark part of me, it will never go away. It took all my energy to fight for years and it is still here. And it’s ok.

There are wounds that can heal but that still leave scars, some will always stay painfull (break a foot and you’ll see… cut a nerve and that’s pretty painful too). The abuse, the grieve, I will never forget and will probably never be able to forgive. And it’s ok too. The oinly person that deserves forgiveness is yourself. And I don’t know about you but I’m pretty hard on myself.

Make peace with myself is by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I am not there yet but I’m allowing myself to take it slow. And to do it well.

I hope you can do that too.
Rise and roar lionnesses