When I find amazing blogs, where incredibly talented writers, create these beautiful poems, or share beautiful photos, that speak of joy, happiness and delighting in all the good in life…great waves of sadness and grieving come over me.
I can’t write that way. I have written poems, not well, but they resonate with people suffering.
But, I have no capacity to sit and write something joyful.
My capacity to write in such detail, about the darker sides of life, is terribly sad. And I feel sadness and grieving for myself. My whole life has been woven together – with enduring abuse, coping with complex PTSD and painful emotions, self hatred, and dark despair never far from the surface. Even the times I believed were good, I now realised were all tainted with this darkness.
I am aware, what I write is needed, helpful and inspiring to people who need it. But it’s hardly joyful, pleasant topics.
“How to have emotional boundaries with narcissists’, ‘my current coping with suicidal thoughts’, ‘how to deal with lack of empathy and mental health stigma’, or ‘how to survive flashbacks of terrifying abuse’…..hardly qualifies as joyful.
But, this is my life.
Decades of dealing with trauma, abuse and PTSD, is in no way a joyful life. It is in no way a life, that creates an ability to focus on the exquisite beauty of life, I do comprehend and know is there, because others feel it.
But, I can’t.
And it wasn’t and isn’t, a choice.