Something I saw or read or heard last week got me thinking about the early years of loss and grief and pain, and how different life feels now.
I haven’t forgotten. I can still
see that younger <Mali> clinging desperately to the internet
relationships she’d made who got her through many of the hardest days and the absolute distress she/I felt when our internet went down for a few days (horror
– can you imagine that happening now?), the loneliness of being ‘other,’ the
shame and the guilt, the lack of hope she/I felt for my future. I remember the gut
punch of opening a cupboard and seeing the folic acid bottle that I had kept “just in case.” And I
remember the almost staggering shock at the realisation that I would be “one of
those people” who didn't fit into mainstream society.
I think it’s important that I mention this some 20+ years later, because I want anyone who might find this site to know that it was never “easy” for me, for my readers and commenters, for any of us. I can and do remember that without pain – which is, if you might recall, how I define “getting over it.” Not that the pain doesn’t arise from time to time, not that there are never ouch moments, not that the world doesn’t make it easy for those of us who are living a No Kidding life. No, simply that I can talk about and remember those years largely without pain. The Mali who went through those emotions is different to the Mali* who writes here now.
It gets better. So much better. Life is pretty wonderful now, even the difficult parts. That’s because I embrace it, because there is no other choice. There’s so much to be grateful for, to appreciate, and yes, even to relish in our No Kidding lives. I don’t know if I’d have believed it back at the start. In fact, I think I might have fought against the idea, as I have seen others fight against it over the years. But simply deciding to look forward, to have hope for something new, and to embrace life honours the pain of the Mali of 20 years ago. She/I deserves to enjoy life now. And so do you!
* Apologies for talking about myself in the third person, but it seemed appropriate, because the Mali of the early 2000s is not me anymore.
This is so lovely. And I agree, it makes sense to talk about Previous Mali in third person, because that was a different life. It's funny how you can look back at things and wonder "how did I survive that?" and then realize, "oh wow, I survived that!" Sending love to Raw Mali and to you now for remembering and sharing this reflection.
ReplyDeleteWhat a triumphant post, also with such a sense of contentment and calm. I've been along on a similar journey -- different details -- but as I read this, my body remembers the loneliness, shame, guilt, and lack of hope.
ReplyDeleteTime and community have helped me embrace it all, as well. So well said, Mali.