Well jeez. I’m wondering why you keep disclosing the comforts of your life, how your family was loving and you’re not scrounging for survival? It reminds me of the way I used to speak about my own struggle, how I felt like I was somehow cheating by looking for support when I am graced, the way I saw it, by so many privileges.
The truth I found for myself and why I try not to do that anymore is that growing up with a two-car garage or having the money for college doesn’t invalidate the suffering I’ve endured. Going to Broadway at four didn’t paint over the fact that I was being abused that very week, and I don’t feel like I need to tell you I would have rather had neither than both.
I still have suicidal thoughts at least a dozen times a day, but they’re like the chattering of obnoxious birds outside a window rather than a noose swinging seductively like a pendulum inside my head. I am not calling for death but embracing the journey of life, one that has become beautiful and luminous with little daily joys that make my heart ache with appreciation. I laugh all the time and can cry when I need to. I feel everything vividly instead of being wrapped in the soft obfuscating gauze of dissociation, wherein I couldn’t be hurt nor in love. The pain let in is completely overwhelmed by the heights of elation I can at last enjoy. I savor it all, for I know what it is to have none of it.
I believe this is success. It is for me.
I like etymology. My favorite word-translated-by-origin is the verb “to suffer.” Literally, it means “to bear up from under.” I hope you will consider my question about the way you seem to cut down or pad the depth of your suffering by sharing your advantages unbidden by anyone. Just because you do not suffer every disadvantage doesn’t mean you are not entitled to feeling your burdens. Don’t be afraid to say you suffer; we all have something to bear up from under.