This is such a wonderful share and question, thank you! I'm glad you're choosing to stay alive.
Hope. It is a thing of love and curiosity.
Even though I don't 100% believe it, I want to fight through the night so that I could see the sun rise. Deep down, I'm hoping that at any moment, something will change.
My abuser killed the part of me that enjoyed being alive. It's like I'm just a body with no identity. It's tough. I cry myself to sleep, I struggle with lots of suicidal thoughts and confusing feelings, like: "I don't even know who I am anymore." I blame myself for what that monster did to me.
But then there are small things.
Trust. I trust my therapist and she reminds me of what it feels like to smile, laugh and be happy. She reminds me of what it feels like to be truly alive. A therapeutic relationship in addition to being able to open up has done wonders for me in the last five years. It's not only about learning to accept my trauma for me, but learning to communicate and create an identity with her help, outside of my trauma. Learning how to live again.
Do I think much will change? Honestly, no. But I hold onto any small thing I can get, any small part of myself of something else that reminds me of what it feels like to be who I once was, someone I can no longer be.
So that's my answer. The small things. Getting to go to the gym, seeing my therapist on a weekly basis, journaling, getting to just exist. Life is pain. There's nothing you can do to prevent yourself from getting hurt, but how you react to a situation is often more important than what happened. It's suffering. Torture. But it's also beauty and mystery.
