Despair

Despair

Hello and welcome back. At this time, I invite you to to take a short walk with me through my life as a sexual assault survivor. Don’t forget to stay to the end, in order to enjoy my gem of positivity.

The topic of this post is despair. As a sexual abuse and assault survivor, I have felt this emotion many times. Like depression, the colour I associate with despair is black. However, unlike depression, this black feels worse to me. It has the added qualities of absolute numbness and emptiness.

Like depression, despair is excruciatingly tiring. For me the worst despair I have ever felt was just recently. It was when I asked my therapist, Dr H, if it was too late. Had irreversible damage been done. His silence spoke volumes. 

The realisation that I have been irreparably damaged was complete and utter desolation. Like being in a a semi-dried well. Hollow, and empty, but still with the quality of dampness. It is closed. Like I’m going to be crushed by the empty loneliness. I guess another way of describing it is claustrophobic, like the very darkness of the black will kill me.

The picture that comes to mind, is that of a little child. Curled in a dark corner, crying. It is hiding away, as children do, when scared or hurt. Or like a dog that has been injured taking itself off to either heal or die, whichever comes first.

In my life, despair has been a large factor. Every assault and every trauma, has dipped me to the point of despair. And it’s a lonely feeling. Because it feels like everyone else is moving on but without me. I’m stuck in the damage (and so despair) of each situation. I’m trapped in the very evilness of what has been inflicted upon me 

Despair has brought me to the point of suicide. Like it’s too much for me to bear. But I know that if I truly give in, the despair will swallow me whole. The perpetrators win. If I give in to despair, I become a victim and not a survivor.

At my worst, I commonly say that the light at the end of the tunnel is an express train coming to run me down. I want to just stand there and let the train end it. That’s the victim in me speaking out. However, my survival instincts are strong. I always seem to find a alcove in the tunnel wall to hide in as the train passes safely past.

Despair is a terrible feeling. And so are the thoughts that go with this emotion:

“I’ll never heal”

“I can’t get over this”

“Everyone will be better off without me”

The thoughts of despair do often lead to attempted suicide, if not the full final ending. I know; I have attempted suicide when those thoughts of despair have overwhelmed me. I am, however, still fortunate enough to be here with you to share my story. That’s not to say I don’t still have those moments of despair. But I now have a strong support network, to help me along. And you will find that you do too.

It has been a difficulty finding a suitable gem of positivity for this post. However, I have decided to go with the title of a song by Billy Ocean:

“When the going gets tough, the tough get going”

And that is just what I’m doing now. The going was getting tougher and, as I could see, unable to be beaten. That was the despair in me. But I’m tough. I lived through the trauma, and came out the other side. Not the same as I was before the trauma, but I’m here. And you are too.

Thank you for taking this short walk with me this while. Don’t forget to leave a comment on how you are beating your despair. And until next time, breathe - and believe.