Every time I heard this phrase? My next most obvious question: “Who’s this Will person, and why are we firing at him?
But that’s not the will of this Story. The one is the Will to Live. And the usual way this Concept is verbalized is this:
“He lost the Will to Live.”
. . .
I call Bull$hit.
I didn’t lose My Will to Live; it was stolen from Me. In the same flavor as “Innocence is Lost” when a Child gets raped, molested, violated – both physically & emotionally – and for what? Because there’s a power imbalance. And the One without any of the power is the Victim.
Society lacks the right words, IMO, to really wrap our heads around this Concept. TECH loves to toss out statistics – “lots of People go through this sort of sh#t, but They don’t turn into Mass Murderers!?” – as if that’s some sort of prize to be awarded. Technically – pun intended – that’s exactly how Society ends up with Mass Murderers! And the Folks that don’t end up being MMs? They end up completely f#cked up for Their Entire Lives, constantly tormented by the demons that remain after some Other Person – usually, a Trusted Other Person – completely f#cks Them up.
You know what? I don’t care “how many other millions of People ‘turned out fine.’” I only care about Myself. I only care about My Son. I only care about Who I am Connected to, Who I Trust, and Who I’m vulnerable to.
I care about the Human Beings I Support. Those Other People in My Herd.
I care about the People that I Love.
And Everyone else? They can go f#ck themselves.
Did growing up in a toxic Family all throughout My Childhood traumatize Me? Of course it did! I dreamed of the day I could escape – I ran away from home on My 18th birthday in the dead of night – and I thought, “I’m free!! I made it!” But I was wrong. Because My Mom found Me, as a newly married Adult – right after the birth of My Son – and all those Memories came right back to the forefront of My SB.
And I was being tormented. In Living color. In Current Day.
That’s what made the difference for Me at least. I could get no relief, no respite, because the Person responsible for all those years of pain & suffering? She was standing right in front of Me. And I had no place to hide, to escape it.
I can say with 100% confidence: The minute both My Parents were dead? I felt.. lighter. I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally! This planet wasn’t big enough for all of Us – and I lucked out, being the Last Man Standing. I remember tossing handfuls of dirt into the gaping hole where My Mom was being buried, and I was smiling. [N: I regret there’s a picture of it somewhere]
I was glad She was no longer breathing. I was glad that I still was.
I tried to kill Myself shortly after that 10 minute visit. She of course had to tell Me what a piece of sh#t I was, how I was lucky to have gotten married – She loved My now ex-Wife of course – and blah blah blah I’m worthless blah blah blah being happy is overrated, and too much to expect when You get married, blah blah… [N: blah blah = the details are fuzzy; I kinda blocked it out as it happened, so I don’t have a clear Memory to recall about that Experience]
I distinctly remember thinking – after She left – that I just didn’t want to be Alive any more. Just… No.
But My Will? My Will was beaten, to death. That visit was the straw that broke the camel’s back – after 20+ years of being a Child, carrying way too much baggage for way too long. I didn’t lose anything.
I come back to that moment of My Life often. I know what I’ve been doing all this time, and sometimes I think, “if I would have died back then? I would have missed this and that and that other thing. I never would have gone on to do X, or meet So-n-So. I would have completely missed out on some of the happiest, best moments of My Life.
So yeah. I’m glad I didn’t die too early in My Own Story. That would’ve totally sucked.
. . .
Conner’s Comments: Society thinks talking about things like suicide, or abuse, or traumatic Experiences out loud somehow manifests them: It’s a Rookie mistake, and it’s Wrong as far as I’m concerned. The more I talk it out, and ponder on it, and piece things out – get really, really down into the details, the feelings, and the unanswered questions – it’s what allows My SB to express all the NEC from these Experiences, these Memories, and these events. It’s the only way I’ve found that I can stop the pinging. I can stop being pecked to death by a thousand chickens. And once I can stop all that white noise? I can continue moving forward.
I can breathe again.
Good luck, DR. And keep breathing. And keep going.
Don’t You dare let these F#ckers win.
I Love You.
/CR