Twenty-two years ago today I shot myself in the chest with a 9mm handgun. It has been an interesting journey these past two decades. I have learned a lot about myself and other people. Some days I am glad to be alive, but many days, honestly, I wish I had died back then. I have experienced love and friendships and seen some beautiful things… But, there has also been an enormous amount of pain… a lot of loss. I have come to understand that we humans grow the most out of our pain and suffering, not from our happy times. I have also come to understand that much of life is loss. In the past 22 years friends and family members have died. My Grandmother, my Nana and my father died, all leaving huge holes in my life. I fell in love several times and all of those amazing loves ended in pain and sorrow. Am I better for knowing these people, maybe. Would I give up the past 22 years to not have the pain I carry around every day of my life, probably.
Aging is an interesting thing. The older I get, the more calm I get. People who knew me in my youth would say that I was an intense nut. I still have some intensity, but nothing like I use to. I use to talk a lot, now I listen a lot more. I use to do stupid things not caring if I got physically hurt… living with chronic pain for 15+ years has taught me to be much kinder to my body. There is a wisdom that comes with age and I guess that I am thankful for that wisdom and the ability it gives me to live a contented life, but the costs have been high!
For many reasons I have not written on here for many months. I have been depressed. This whole COVID nightmare really brought some things into focus for me (and not in ways many people might think). I am hoping to write more now… and we people with “issues” often pay attention to anniversaries… and so today seemed like a good day to finally publish something.