Silent Screams

My screams were silent

My cries hidden

My fears masked

Darkness – colourless

What do I mean by this ?

When I was at my lowest, and when I say lowest, I should call it what it was suicidal

That was when the smile of my face was the widest, the brightest. But if anyone looked a moment longer, they would see there was no life behind my eyes.

I had come to a place of resolution, acceptance (my definition at the time)

I had talked, talked to people around me, told them I was worried for myself

But now I see that that didn’t mean anything.

My mum had always known when I was low, that inner instinct I guess. I had suffered bouts of depression before, but nothing like this.

My sister knew that for me to even speak about it was something to be concerned about it.

The ache didn’t present itself in the typical way – not that i can say anything is typical.

I thought, I have nothing to live for anymore.

Yes there were people around me, my brothers namely that would be sad. But I had come to a place when I thought, they survived death before, they would survive this.

I was tired, exhausted always thinking about other people, how they would feel, how they would react.

I now felt that to really show myself compassion was to end it all. To me at the time that was me loving myself. That was me giving myself permission to finally be free. Free of the life long suffering I had endured. The abuse, death, loss, constant health challenges.

I was so over it.

My ex husband (whom I truly adore – a story for another time). I think he knew, he would call me over and over again, even if I didn’t answer, he would call. He has known me since I was 18 years old. He understood that the calmess I displayed meant I was serious. Despite him telling me, he still needed me, I knew he would get over it.

He had moved on, in another relationship, in another city. He couldn’t be there as much as he wanted to.

I would tell him how much his care had meant to me, that he should never let anyone take advantage of him. ( he had a big heart which I had seen being taken advantage of over the years)

I had written the letters to my brothers explaining and asking for their forgiveness.

I was quite simply ok with going. Life was moving on but I was stuck. I wasn’t living anyway so why prolong it.

But deep down, as much as I would push it down, I had this annoying niggling feeling.

What if I had not done what I was out here to do?

What if there was someone out there, suffering more than me, that one word I could speak would help. What if?

I would go to therapy (for me, it wasn’t helping) I had had three therapist by this point, and each time I would relay my experiences, my struggles, I would feel guilty because I could see them holding back their own tears. One actually cried, apologising profusely but still cried.

So I would go to another, surely bereavement Counselling shouldnt be about me consoling them?

So I was resolute, I really have tried, I would reason with myself. I would list out the things that I had done, tried, as though trying to quieten this inner voice telling me to just hold on.

And I did, I have. I bare all, open myself up to anyone and everyone, as a part of my own journey of healing, I am by no means there, I by no means have the answers, know everything.

All I know is what I have experienced, what I have felt and tried.

I read an Instagram post this week which said,

“What is the most important advice anyone has ever given you?”

As I read some of the responses,

“It will all be ok”

“You are strong”

“Challenges are a blessing”

I thought about it for a while and remembered the words of my beloved mother, words that sit deep in me.

“It’s ok to cry”

So with that knowing, with trying to understand that I won’t always feel great, feel happy.

I find myself in a place where I feel ok to cry, to hurt. For me, accepting and embracing this has been my way of loving myself.

I AM CHRISTYNETTE

I AM ACCECPTANCE