Gratitude.
I’m scared for you to read this. I’m scared that what you’re about to know about me are things I’ve kept from people through my entire life. No one knows. No one knew.
–
As much as I hate to admit it, with the steady transition into adulthood now beginning to reach its final stages, I can’t help but to reflect on all the different changes and parts of myself that have appeared over time. Out of everything, though, in the past three years the one thing that really sticks out to me is the way in which I’ve come to understand the depths to which my emotions run. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m no where near the most sensitive guy in the world. I’ll step on toes. I’ll say stupid stuff. I’ll even sometimes take jokes a bit too far. To be sexist to myself: I’m a d00d. That’s how we roll — well, mostly.
But no. That’s not entirely fair on myself. I’m not just a d00d. I’m the guy that’s been to hell and back. And I have therapists who will agree with me on that. Growing up hasn’t been easy, especially living in a household which was and is frequently rife with conflict between my parental units; though, albeit, they are courteous enough to curtail it in front of friends, generally.
And in some ways, I think I have to thank my parents for the acrid, poisonous pain they’ve caused me through my life. While they’ve given me many years of time in therapy, they’ve also allowed me to see what it’s like to be on the other side. You know. The side only found when you’re still awake at 2AM because you’ve cried so much it physically hurts to breathe. The side only found when you’ve contemplated — repeatedly, to the point of not being able to know how many times — of killing yourself. And when you’ve had the means to do so. I’ve been there. I’ve almost done that.
But you know what? I treasure those moments. In a very real way, those moments have provided me with an insight not many other people in the world can truly understand. And that’s why I value them so, so dearly. They allow you to see a world which no one else sees. And, maybe, I don’t know, they carved a hole for me to see the true emotions hidden under all the layers. The angst. The anger.
And, currently, the empty, gnawing fear. I won’t admit it. Not to anyone but you. But it’s there. It’s twisting my stomach invisibly. Waiting for my moment of weakness so that it can rise up my throat like the moment just before you vomit. Ugh. Horrible imagery.
I won’t pretend my life has been easy. And, likewise, I will never pretend my life has been filled with hardship. I live in a middle-class family in a middle-class village in a pretty middle-class area. My family has, for the most part, been financially comfortable throughout my entire life. And I know that there are so many people out there that would probably overload with joy if they swapped places with me. And, likewise, I know that there are also endless amounts of people that live in their McMansions that wouldn’t even recognize the luxury that I live in.
But you know what? It doesn’t matter. Whether or not my life has been an epic romance or tragedy is, honestly, not important. The moment is important for me. Treasuring the fact that I don’t have to worry about war or famine or losing a family member to cancer. Not now. Never before. Possible in the future. But right now, there is safety. And peace. And health.
And I value that. My darkness has shown me just how important it is to recognize the light in my life. And for that, I am happy. No matter how strong this fear is. No matter what happens. I’ll treasure the soft things in my life. The feel of a cat’s fur under my hand, or the cotton wool, buzzy feeling in my head when I’ve been on a long run or even the tender peace a song can evoke in me.
I’m grateful for my darkness and my pain. Not so that I can appease some ‘Law of Attraction’ or anything like that. Simply because I know that without the chord of despair, I wouldn’t be even a fraction of the person — the man — I am now.
