A reprint from the book Untranslatable
This week is my birthday. Not the date that it says on my birth certificate but the date, in which, I finally emerged from my own self-constructed womb and entered the world. I will be five. Before that, I was not so safely hiding inside of fear, doubt, anger, self-loathing, unworthiness, and shame. This all trapped me so tightly that I used my self-constructed umbilical cord to snuff myself out. It just looked like over 100 prescription medications, so I was confused.
I passed out on my parent's living room floor while I was getting ready to go to work. That somewhere made sense in my oxygen-starved brain; to get in a car and try a do a job because ‘Hey. I’m fine.’ Four days later I woke up from a coma. I talked to a lot of people; I don’t remember. I apparently bought a lot of shoes online; I don’t remember. I do remember the ICU nurses encouraging me while my mom propped me up as I walked around the nurses’ station in order to get my strength back. They let me pick my own Pandora station (The Civil Wars) and had the greatest smiles. My mom later sent them a care package as a thank you.
I then spent a week in a psych ward. I paced up and down the hallways like a caged animal and fell heavily into my eating disorder. I tried to convince them many times to let me go. They, of course, didn’t. One of the med techs took an interest in me, not as a person but as an interesting case study since my overdose was a combination of PTSD/DID/wrong meds, and couldn’t get enough of asking me questions. She was baffled by the fact that I did not remember trying to kill myself let alone feeling suicidal.
When I finally did get turned out into the world it was the day of a family party. I was about to be surrounded by people my mom has known since kindergarten. They are better family than some of our biological family. That sounds exactly like birth to me, you enter the world and are immediately surrounded by your tribe. The party was hard, and I felt like I was in a daze. It was a lot to go from psych ward bubble to music, loud talking, bright colors, and food that wasn’t yellowish-gray.
In time, I began to relearn things, adjust, figure out where a change needed to be. I can’t say that I immediately had a feeling of this is my second chance and I am going to kill it (bad joke?). I felt lost and like I had no idea what I was doing. Things were hard, and I was still sad. My family was upset and since I wasn’t really there in that ICU room I couldn’t know what it was like. I felt trapped for a long time after that. It took years, years, not days not weeks, not months for me to un-trap myself. To decide there was a different way, a different life for myself.
I still struggled. I still struggle. The crawl out of the mud is long and hard. I had times where I cried so hard I threw up, I had times where I thought I was succeeding, and my family didn’t. I wanted to remind them that I was just born but that would probably be painful for them.
Now, years later, I have to laugh all the time. Life is still hard, and life is also beautiful. The things I thought were impossible were not. I didn’t know that I would have a job, friends, and partner that I love. I didn’t know that I would get a brain injury, multiple chronic illnesses, and long-haul covid that would all challenge how I looked at the world. Five years out and I am a published author, a board member for a mental health non-profit, on the mental health subcommittee for the National Council for Independent Living, a certified yoga instructor, a freelance editor. Most importantly, I am so much freer and happier than I could have ever imaged. I have so many new moments. Moments where I am hit with how close I was to missing so much. The air is kicked out of me when I remember I might not have been around to experience all I have done.
In my second year, I sat outside with the cats watching the first fireflies of the season come to my yard. I was reminded of the children’s book The Very Lonely Firefly. I realized that book is not for children. Or rather, it fits my re-born state. For those who haven’t read the book, there is this single firefly that is lonely and looks for other fireflies by flashing its light. It takes a really long time and the firefly feels sad and ready to give up. Of course, the firefly finds the others. The very last page is decked out with flashing lights made to look like fireflies. It’s magic.
Life and recovery are so like that. You have to create your own light. You have to struggle, and feel sad, and ready to give up and STILL create your own light. Do this long enough and hard enough, you will find your tribe of firefly people.
Flicker on my friends, and try not to get trapped in a jar.
