Photograph by Nicholas Kevin Corey (1971-2012)
February is not my favorite month … for many reasons. I don’t like the cold and snow unless I am skiing. And since I am not yet independently wealthy, I don’t ski for the entire month of February.
I don’t love Valentine’s Day. This is not because I am single. I have two mini-Valentines. I am just tired of love being defined by those who should not define it. Love was always twisted and manipulated in my family. And Valentine’s Day feels like another manipulation of what love is supposed to be.
February also happens to be the birthday month of many people from my past, most of whom I don’t want to remember. It tends to bring up the ghosts of childhood.
But there is one anniversary with more significance than the others. February is the month that my ex-husband committed suicide. So while everyone is thinking about love, I am thinking about death. I am thinking about the seemingly insurmountable pain that makes death seem less painful. I am not thinking about this because I don’t understand it. I am thinking about this because I do understand it. I understand it a little too well. I know that pain. I think all abuse and trafficking survivors know that pain.
Recently, I was sitting at a table with some of my favorite people. They were all trafficking survivors. Some were victims of sex trafficking and some labor trafficking. Some had been trafficked for ten years and some for a month. When someone asked who had tried to commit suicide, every person at the table raised their hand. It was a spontaneous question. It wasn’t planned. The conversation had turned in this direction quickly, but it certainly got interesting.
We started discussing the deep desire that all humans have to relieve pain. We discussed that moment when there doesn’t seem to be another way to do it. This moment happens in slavery.
In the other world, adults have ways to stop the pain. An adult can make a conscious effort to stop doing what they are doing. They can decide to leave their relationship. They can decide to leave their job. They can decide to have a drink or take some recreational drugs. I am not trivializing these things. They can be extremely hard decisions. Our mental chains can keep us from making the right decision no matter how physically free we may be.
However, in slavery, when we have been told that we will die if we leave, when we have been beaten, when we truly don’t see a way out, death by our own hand can seem like the better choice.
As a trauma survivor, I am not afraid of death. I am afraid of what would happen to my children if I died. I am afraid of not having more time to get my message out to victims and other survivors. But I am not afraid of death itself. If I was, I would not be speaking out. There are too many death threats that I am defying by telling my story.
But I think all survivors have a different relationship with death. During my recovery, I have agonized about my options, and death seemed easier at times. It seemed like a lot less work. When I feel that way, I am resorting back to those old feelings of being trapped in a life I could not change. When I am aware of that, I can remember that I am not that person anymore. I can remember that I can make changes, so that my life is better, happier. It is hard to remember that I have power over more than just my own death. However, it is critical that I remember that my power is limitless at this point. Death is no longer my only choice.
Thank you. Spoken from some one who truly has been to the depths, your depth of understanding and words of hope that encourage others are a blessing. You have come through so much pain, as I hope to do more and more each day. You also speak out with much courage as I hope to do one day. Yes, death is not the only choice. Thank you for your bravery and wisdom.
Thank you Rachel! I look forward to hearing your story when you are ready to speak out.
Thanks for your support. I look forward to sharing when the time feels right, and to reading more of your posts too.
I can’t even begin to imagine your pain. Thinking of you during this difficult time that so many put happy hearts on their blogs and social networks when your heart is trying to heal. Blessings, Oliana xx
Thank you Oliana. I appreciate your kind words. My two babies help me tolerate the happy hearts. I just focus on them as much as possible.
Children do make our lives change totally.Valentine’s were special to me when they were little making them special hearts and helping them choose hearts they wanted to give to their friends. It is also Teachers’ appreciaton Day the Friday of Valentine week every year here in Quebec. Puts things in perspective.
The kids do get so excited about it. If you are a teacher, thank you.
Not a teacher…although I worked as a youth counsellor in a school for 5 yrs. But when the kids were little, as a parent we would make a nice meal for the teachers around this time. My son is a teacher.
Thank you so much for being a strong voice of hope to so many by saying that death is not the only choice! You are living proof of that!
Thank you Clara.
I feel your pain all the way in so many many ways, a matter of fact I just posted something yesterday or this morning about hating february…I am going to add you to my blog roll I want to follow you, we have to much in common for me not to, its kind of scary…amanda in Ohio
Thank you Amanda. It does look like we have a lot in common. I look forward to reading your posts too.
Reblogged this on Surviving Childhood Sexual Abuse.
Is this where I can let my shame out?
This was me, exactly 2 weeks ago. I didn’t get all the way to an attempt but had everything I needed. A planned location (away from the home). The letter done.
I felt so ready. So many I loved and trusted are already gone. I kissed my kids goodbye a fee days before (they were staying at their dad’s) and mentally sent them wishes of love, joy and peace for the future. And it felt so good not to be in struggle anymore. So peaceful.
I didn’t. I called my counsellor. I spent the next week in hospital. I’m still here. But I have so much to work through.
Please don’t read this as a gesture. It’s not. I just can’t really tell anyone else and have them get it. It’s not for lack of love for my children. It’s just way too dark sometimes with everything returning. Most people don’t understand how that works. And I wouldn’t be here now if some part of me didn’t have hope it could be better. It’s getting to better in a world that feels willfully unaware that is hard. Thank you for helping change that.
First, this is always where you can let your shame out. Second, you have no reason to be ashamed. I was wondering where you were today. I was driving my car and suddenly thought that I had not heard from you. I am so glad you are still with us. I am so glad you changed your plans. It can get better. I does get better. And you have the strength to do it. You introduced me to The Fight Song and I know you are a fighter.
Bravo for your bravery! 🙂
Elisabeth, so much love to you and hugs. I felt very much like considering death today, I don’t know how I made it to the evening. Maybe I was meant to read this. Thank you for sharing and being here. You’ve made a difference to so many lives, mine included. I am so happy you and the kids have each other.
This is a song on my phone that plays on repeat these months:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c0i8Q_7s9XI
Thank you Zeinab for your kind words today! I am sending my love and hugs back to you too.
For some reason Feb is also dark for me. My suicide attempts in the past were usually in Feb…not sure why. I get the despair of it all and thinking of the relief. Since I have a protector part that won’t let us die, I gave up on suicide as an out many years ago. I’m in such a better place now. Always…thank you for your words of insight
Thank you Stacey. I am sorry it is a hard month for you too. Sending my love to you.
Thank you for this post. I am a survivor of physical, emotional, sexual, and satanic ritual abuse, and I do have Dissociative Identity Disorder. I have been in therapy consistently for a few years now. It has been excruciatingly painful to learn what was done to each of my (hundreds) of inside children and teens, especially about the satanic ritual abuse.
I have been struggling for a long while with deep depression and thoughts/feelings of wanting to go “HOME” to God. I have been feeling like I just want to go to sleep here on earth and wake up in heaven. I have been afraid to follow through on any of my plans because I have always been taught that I will “burn in hell eternally” if I end my life myself. I talked with my therapist this week about these thoughts and feelings and it helped calm me a litte bit, but the feelings have not completely gone away. I want to believe that things will get better and that I will feel better eventually. I just can’t see “the light at the end of the tunnel” yet. As I read your posts, and some of the replies, I am starting to feel some hope that we can heal and have a good life. Thank you!
I am glad you feel a bit of hope from this blog and comments. It can be hard to find sometimes on this journey. Our deep depression is often a flashback to our childhood, when death was the only escape. Keep connecting with these parts and you all can heal together.
‘As a trauma survivor I don’t afraid of death’. It is so true and for me. Lately I was diagnosed with thrombosis of hand, and some clots in my blood stream were found. When drs were looking for cancer, vision of death was not the worst. The care of kids was. After time I was supprised that my own death wasn’t scary. I feel like that several times in life. Now understand that it can be survival mode I lived my all life. As a kid I had only relationship with God and I usually prayed for taking me from this world. The death was always very close to me. Thank you Elisabeth for your wisdom. You are light on my way. ❤
Thank you. I completely understand this Joanna.