There is a time for survival, when we acknowledge the pain and trauma of our lives and search for others in the same situation to give us comfort and support. But labelling ourselves as survivors is like picking at an open wound. We prod and pry inside for the reasons while reliving the details of our story over and over again. Focussing on the pain, wearing it as name tag keeps us in the same place.
I have experienced many blessings and learned some great lessons from going through this trauma. Those things I will keep with me always. But I’m not celebrating a death, or remembering a soul tormented by demons today, I am giving thanks that I breathe, live and am here in this moment. The same as every day.
My ability to recover relatively quickly from such a traumatic event in my life was because I followed my pleasure before I took care of the pain. I concentrated all my efforts on how wonderful it felt to be with someone I could love, and who loved me even at my worst. Of course the pain seeped in and sometimes obliterated all thoughts of pleasure, but it was (and is) the happiest time of my life.
Looking back, I can make the excuse that I was in shock and didn’t know what I was doing, but all I knew in that moment was that life was impermanent and everything could end in a heartbeat. There was no time to lose, there was no reason to pretend any longer. Sex and death. Connection in the face of disconnection. Love is all that matters.