CW: Suicide mentioned & attempts
I had a terrible headache this morning. I couldn’t move. I get migraines sometimes. They are debilitating. I tried to stand up but I couldn’t. I wanted to get medication but I couldn’t even move. I was getting scared. I every time this happens I fear the worst. My anxiety ramps this up to a full on tumor really fast. I usually start hyperventilating, but this time the most peculiar thought came into my mind. It felt like another voice other than my own. The thought said.
It was was said in such a sweetness that I have never known. It was said in such kindness that I wasn’t aware of. Was it God? Was it me? No one has ever spoken to me like that before. I’ve received kindness but it has never been so deep. It has never been so honest. It has never spoken so soft and truthfully.
Usually when we are in a state of anxiety or pain people can judge and say “stop feeling sorry for yourself” but honestly, we are doing the complete opposite of that. We have no sympathy or empathy for the self, so we seek it elsewhere. We go to the internet for validation. We go to our partners. We go out on tinder dates with strangers looking for them to rub our temples when we have a migraine and to say “poor thing.”
Whether it was God, the universe, or myself, who said it. Poor thing. I cried and held myself for the first time in my life. It was illuminating. Usually I cry and clutch on to the fabric of reality for dear life, but I finally did it. This is self care. Actually caring for the self. Actually finally feeling compassion for yourself. I then began to realize I’ve been hearing this phrase in many different ways within myself all along. My response has never been helpful.
When we are in the throes of stress and anxiety we tense up and our defense mechanisms come into play. When our inner compassion, or God, or truth begins to speak within us, we silence it. When our soul says “poor thing” we respond as our demons. We respond as our parent or guardian who said “I don’t need your pity” when we saw them weep. We respond as our mentor who chastised us for crying over the loss of an opportunity. We respond as a troll online who said we were playing the victim and have no right to exist. We don’t listen to that voice inside which is always trying to be kind to us. Some of our inner voices are buried so deep under trauma that we think our demons are being compassionate. We seek the attention of others because we don’t know how to hear the compassion within ourselves.
We don’t know how to feel sorry for ourselves. We don’t apologize to self for the times we have abused ourselves. We don’t look to self in the space that we are hurting often until it is too late. That’s why a lot of us live on this suicidal edge, because we wait until we get to the end of a bottle, the end of a binge, the end of an abusive relationship, the end of a road, when that inner compassion meshes with death and the self and we all are one. But often that ends in a death ignoring accident. For some they don’t survive.
I’ve been through enough death ignoring accidents. I’ve been to the hospital for suicide attempts, but honestly I think I’ve tried on more occasions than I even know. Through drugs, drinking, abusive men, all just trying to get them to rub my temples and hold me for a moment. I wanted death to validate and vindicate me when I could have done it inwardly with this compassion all along.
It is human nature to forget these things when they happen. When we deepen our truth and understanding of self we say “huh, that’s interesting.” But we often get so wrapped up in the addiction of wanting to feel loved we forget that pure inner compassion that speaks to us is what is true. This inner truth is enough. All of these falsities of fame and adoration pass after 15 minutes and we must clamor for more, but inner compassion, the depth of love, that truth is eternal.