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| Ali Ashraf Roni |
Never in all my life did I think I could hurt anymore than I did coming out as a gay woman. It was full of the most agonizing moments of my life. It brought me to the brink of suicide so many times. Being told that God hates your very being and you are doomed is not something that warms your heart. The metamorphosis into acceptance was incredibly painful. It was 5 years of hell, full of depression, panic attacks, delusions, hallucinations, and despair. I have no idea how I survived it. But I did.
I thought the worst was over. I thought if I could survive that, I could survive anything. I had many good years after that. Many blessings, many good experiences. I had a relationship that I thought was good, and for a long time it was. Then I found that I had been living in a world of delusion. It was good while it lasted.
And now, here I sit alone. In reality. I hate reality. My friends at work joke that I am in my own little world and I am. I don't know how to make it any other way. It works most of the time. I have learned my job and I do it automatically. Normally I do it well. I exist there in order to get home and write. It is my saving grace.
Yet these last two day, it has only been a temporary solace. There are moments when I am okay, even laughing. Yet, suddenly, something will send me down into darkness. As I write, I cry. If I stop writing, I feel as if I will die. Yet how many times can you say the same thing. In my head I tell myself to go on and it makes sense, and then that thing...that photo...that name...that scent...that blog entry.. stares me down and I fall into a deep dark pit.
And these moments hurt more than any moment I can recall. Never has losing someone hurt this badly. I was just starting to deal with losing my wife. There were only two rooms in the house where I could be without feeling her. And those two rooms are now filled with the one I have now lost. Everywhere I look, something reminds me of her. Sitting at this computer reminds me of her. Writing reminds me of her, for in many ways, she was my muse.
And now I have to find a way to bring positivity back into the house. I have to figure out how to save my heart and my life. I have to find a way to create new memories. I tell myself to just hold on a little longer, to live for the next 60 seconds, not the next 60 days.
And somehow, I wake up the next morning, and I get in the zone that allows me to survive, to function. It is like holding my breath for 6 hours until I can get home again, because as the Melissa Etheridge song says "It only hurts when I breathe." So I try not to.
I am so tired. So tired of the struggle. So tired of the fight. But I am convinced...I KNOW that there is hope out there. I KNOW there is happiness somewhere. I KNOW there will be a time when I don't hurt like this.
I'll be damned if I will give up. I have doubted my resolve often in recent months, but every time I have taken another step, I have found that that step leads to something good. I am no fool. Although I live much of my time in my own imaginary world, I know that somewhere, out there, I will hurt again. Everybody hurts. But then I will feel happiness again.
I must grieve. I have to allow myself that. I feel as if two of the most important people in my life, have died this year. So I know I must go through the process of grieving that loss. I can't hide that grief and I cannot ignore it. I must deal with it no matter how painful it may be.
I know I will come out stronger. My heart will go on beating. Hopefully I will learn from my mistakes and I will become a better person. But first, I have to forgive myself. I have to love myself. I have to accept that I am human. And I am not at that point of acceptance yet.
There is a Johnny Cash song that reads "I'm just an ol' lump of coal, but I'm going to be a diamond someday." I don't know when that day will ever come. I know that as the seasons change, and the earth moves, that I am being formed and reformed. It is a painful process.
I hang on thinking that surely to God, sharing my experiences will minister to someone else. I beg that my hurt not be in vain. I have to find a purpose in it.
I dream of a ministry. I see it in my mind where one day, someone will hear me speak, or read something I have written and the plans they had to die that day will change. I see a day where the simple act of a teddy bear hug from me will give someone the strength to keep going. I imagine a moment where a person in pain looks in my eyes and into my soul and sees understanding and love.
I wrote a song once where the chorus read "If I have to hurt Lord, let me feel the pain, if I have to bleed Lord, let me bleed like rain, tie a string tightly around my soul, but don't let me forget, Lord, those who need God's Love Patrol."
And so in these moments of intense pain, when it only hurts when I breathe, I remember these feelings. I memorize them. Because if I do, I will recognize them in others. I will see the pain in their eyes because I saw it in mine. And only then will I be able to reach out and touch their heart and help bring them peace.
Someday....
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