3.21.22<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The tiktoks I make about having once been suicidal make her angry. I asked her why. She said because there was a chance she wouldn\u2019t have me in her life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I don\u2019t know what I expected her to say. Maybe I thought she was angry at me being driven to that position. Angry that it even became an option for me. Anger over the thought of not having me? I did not know what to say. Words prepared upon my tongue tasted wrong and dissolved in my mouth before a single one could be uttered. Anger over the possibility of never having me. That is not something I knew how to reply to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Those I claim as family have told me how happy they are I lived, how happy they are that I\u2019m in their lives. They are grateful to the child who chose against the end of her life. They are grateful I survived. I tell them I am, too. I\u2019m grateful to have made it through it all, and to be in their lives now. Why could I not whisper my usual response to her as evening extended into night? Why did my mind lose all sense of words, of time, of self? Why was I suddenly there, feeling this warmth spread from my chest and made me feel each nerve with such vivid intensity that I could not speak, even to whisper a \u2018thank you?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But what good would a \u2018thank you\u2019 be in a situation like this? Anger over the possibility of me not being here. Anger. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I have dealt so much with anger as I learn to heal from the trauma inflicted upon me as a child. The anger has become a close friend, one that reminds me it\u2019s okay to be upset about what was done. That what was done was indeed wrong – that it was cruel, and violent, and horrid. It does not consume my mind, instead it lights a fire in my ribs, reminds me to keep those boundaries drawn in stone, to keep myself safe and protected. It reminds me I am worthy of defending.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Anger is not something I fear. It is not something I hate. It is an emotion I was told was wrong growing up, one that was villainized for over twenty years of my life. I learn now that it stems from a loving place, a place of righteous fury. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Anger of me not being here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wanted to bury my face in her stomach and smile. I wanted to hold her and never let her go. I wanted to laugh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What joy it is to have someone care so much about your existence that the mere thought of it having been snuffed out would cause them such righteous anger. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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