Death
Every famous writer has to understand the importance of death. It is the ultimate end, but it is also the start of something new. When we pass away, our families are tasked with remembering the good times they had with us. We pray that they are peaceful watching us, or guiding us if we are lucky enough. I have had many nightmares and dreams about death. Some were deaths of people I love, and some were my own deaths.
My mind does drift to a world where I don’t exist or never existed. I have seen the lives my family would live without me. The chance for my sibling to happen would still be there, since we have different fathers. I know that my love would say that if we had never met, he would be so lost and hopeless. I have high doubts; he knew that he was making his life better for himself. I am sure my dad and mom would find love separately at some point in their lives.
I remind myself of what my life adds to this world. The artwork, the friends, the journeys, etc. There is something deeply peaceful about death. It is complete peace. All my life, I have searched for peace. Maybe that’s why I struggle with my mental health.
Working in healthcare gave me first-hand experience with death. Although it was just two years, I spent two previous years doing full-time caregiving for Grandma Kay. I know in some way my family is watching over me, but feeling their love is irreplaceable. Memories are not strong enough to feel their hugs or hear how sincere their words are. I do not wish this feeling on anyone, the weight of the world locked in your heart.
The first time I watched myself die, I wished it were real. Trauma changes the brain and the soul, I know that first-hand. By the time I was on death number six, I was tired of the bad joke. After doing therapy, I understand what I went through. Death remains, unchanged by any amount of kind reason or soft words. I will now turn the subject to something unique.
I asked death what it was like, being responsible for so many people. Death pointed to the mountain ridge on the horizon. They had a point; death itself is a form of higher transformation. I have read about every spirituality and religion out there. They all point to the same circle of life and death. So I asked myself again, at the age of 24, do I want to be a part of the rest of my circle?
It is a choice, regardless of who thinks or says anything else. You have to decide to stay on this planet, just like every other animal on this planet chooses to fight or die for survival. On difficult days like death anniversaries, one will drift into wondering what it would be like to trade places. During my first breakthrough with my childhood trauma, that therapist asked me something I will ask you reader.
“Can you hug the younger you?” At the time, I didn’t understand what they meant. Now I do, can I hug the version of me that was damaged? Can I look through the pain long enough to make it another day? Can I love parts of myself that were taken from me? I try each day, each hour, to say something nice to myself.
As I go through my breathing exercises, I try to clear my mind. Meditating on the moment of peace and silence, lasting up to an hour or so. I suggest that everyone listen to music and find the songs that speak to you. Music is one of the many ways we connect as humans. So in sharing music, we can connect on a ground level and help each other. At least that is what I think.
I will take this time to tell you, reader, if you feel like death is the only way out. It’s not the only way; in the USA, texting 988 will get you connected to people who care. I have used their line, and they were very helpful in my time of need. If you are outside the USA, I am sure you can Google your mental health crisis line.
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