From Darkness to Light: Overcoming Trauma and Grief

We all have roads we are familiar with driving on. There might be a gas station, road sign, or other structure that signifies how far down this road we are. There might be potholes we’re overly familiar with or points where traffic is particularly congested. This is a metaphor for how I feel my emotions, specifically sadness, anger, and grief. I felt these emotions more than I would have liked in my youth. Grief and sorrow in my late teen years to early twenties gave way to self-loathing, which then led to crippling depression. When depression is your constant companion for years, there comes a routine. When I was younger, this routine included staying up late to avoid facing the darkness, sleeping late to prevent it, and spending my waking hours fearing it or being so busy that I could ignore it. The trauma and emotions of life cannot be overlooked. I’ve heard it said that grief demands a witness, and it will deal with you if you don’t deal with it. They will pop out into the light, often occurring at inopportune times.
Had I taken time off during college, learned appropriate coping skills, and gotten my diagnosis, my entrance into the workforce would not have been so upsetting. If I had made peace with how uncomfortable I was in my skin in high school, appreciating my strengths and giving my weaknesses grace, I wouldn’t have ended up in the hospital, convinced that death would be my reprieve. Part of my recovery was learning when I was starting to slip into depression or becoming electric with anxiety. The goal was to recognize these feelings so I could appropriately cope. I did learn how to cope. My brain also learned to associate even the slightest whiff of anxiety or depression as a sign that I was on the road to being hospitalized again. I never wanted to go back to the hospital. This fear led to paralysis when it came to dealing with emotions. It took years to feel safe being sad.
This week, I got a phone call saying a loved family member wasn’t doing well. As I made the drive to their home, as I had many times before, it felt as though I was going down the road of what it meant to feel grief and loss. I had been here before, but this time was different. I knew I was strong enough to handle whatever was going to happen. I was sad and upset. I didn’t want my family member to be having complications. It occurred to me that the outside wasn’t what had changed over the past five years. The change was that I now trusted myself. I had long stopped burying my grief, trauma, and loss, and all the years of therapy had paid off. I could sit with my emotions, not be swept away, and do the next right thing. I also am not alone anymore. It felt so good to be in control of myself and able to self-regulate.
After my mental health crisis, I convinced myself I had ended up in the hospital because I was weak and couldn’t handle the stress of everyday life. I was structurally unsound for living. I realize now I had been wounded, battered, and bruised for many years. I had ended up in the psychiatric ER because of the wounds. I was astounded by how long healing took. I forgot that it had taken at least four years to reach the state I was in. It was going to take at least that long to heal fully.
This Christmas, I’m grateful for the people who stayed by my side five years ago and continue to do so, the love I’ve been given, the healing I have achieved, and the opportunity to experience the new year. Happy New Year.