Don’t Be Me

Don’t Be Me

One of the most absurd things I’ve ever convinced myself of was the fact that what happened to me was not severe enough to warrant outside support. That even with everything I was experiencing, it did not compare to what others had suffered through. I mean, how could I talk about being unable to temporarily walk while others would never walk again? Sure, I lost range of motion in my left hand, but at least I still had both. Yes, I had 6 or 7 surgeries, but that was nothing compared to those who had been under the knife dozens of times.

How would I justify sharing daily pain while I knew people who had been battling cancer for years? My pain and suffering paled in comparison to what others were going through. Who was I to publicly cry about some broken bones and materialistic loss?

I struggled with imposter syndrome for most of my professional life and there I was transitioning that same syndrome into my personal trauma. I needed support, but refused to share what I was going through because I did not want to be seen as an attention whore. I also did not want to become addicted to the attention itself – which I’ve experienced before and know I’m vulnerable to it.

A part of me almost enjoyed the pain – much like a masochist finds pleasure in what most people would consider being abused. There’s something inside of people like this that finds peace in receiving what they believe they deserve. 

The logic is that if you live in a pit of despair, the fall from happiness is short, hurts less, and for a shorter amount of time.

Then something happened. Almost a year ago, I found myself in the darkest of places. I had finally lost the desire to know what my future held. With my curiosity about tomorrow no longer in play, I knew it was only a matter of time before self harm became a valid option. The emotions I began to experience were confusing. Part of me was excited to be at a point I could go through with it. To end the relentless failures, the new and improved ways to be a disappointment to myself. The ability to move on in hopes of finding something better in the next life. The other side of me was scared that I no longer had that curiosity-based safety net. Every option was on the table at that point.

So how am I still here? While searching online for distraction I found myself in the Reddit rabbit hole. Within the sub-reddits were countless threads discussing depression and anxiety. I found a focus, at least for a while. I could share the lessons from my life to a younger generation in hopes of helping them in even the smallest of ways. It was a sense of purpose. I needed that more than anything if I was going to continue with my daily grind towards nothingness.

At one point, I came across a post that made me giggle. It was an innocent question formulated from the mind of someone either young or older, yet inexperienced in life. I took a second to respond in a very polite, but direct manner. Just moments after I posted my comment, I received a private message from the post’s author. It had a distinct undertone of panic as they felt I had called them out publicly. (Basically, my response nailed them perfectly and it freaked them out that someone could know so much about a stranger based on a simple question)

Their initial contact turned into a daily conversation. Eventually we spoke over the phone. Sometime later we met in person. All of this was done with my s/o’s knowledge and apprehensive approval. She was not thrilled with the situation, but she gave me some latitude because she understood I was struggling with a great deal of emotions – none of which were healthy.

I became a mentor to this young person… And suddenly, I not only had a purpose, but also had an outlet to use the knowledge I had gained from all my mistakes to try and help someone else out who was struggling with where they were in their life. Here’s the most amazing thing – We only had my past and their present trauma in common. We cannot be more opposite of each other in every way, shape, and form.

That was almost a year ago and today I consider that person to be someone of significance and value their presence in my life dearly. They are one of the most caring and courageous people I’ve ever had the privilege to know with a blindingly bright future. The fact they trust me to the degree that they do has made a difference in my own self worth.

Maybe I have value after all? That remains to be seen.