Last night I woke up around 3 o’clock. I have been waking up around that time for several nights in a row. I fight the urge to look at my phone to verify the time because I once read that looking at the clock only makes it more difficult to fall back to sleep. But I looked, and it was 3, just like the night before and the one before that.
I lay there with my cat curled into the curve of my arm, his head resting on my shoulder, his purr vibrating on my chest. I felt his warmth and what I like to imagine is love. And I also felt the deep, overwhelming pain that I now recognize as shame and the fear that I am not worthy of love.
I lay there and I thought about the person I met who seemed to be crazy about me. He texted me dozens of times a day. He called me “sunshine” and “babe.” He held me and kissed me. He made long lists of the things he liked about me and he said he thought his friends would like me.
It has been years since a person did and said things like that to me. I told my mom and my sister and my friends including Michael, who adores me, and JoAnn, who wants the best for me in every area of my life. Everyone said, “You deserve this, Wendi,” and I agreed.
But he stopped, this man who I believed could love me. On our last date he kissed me three times and hugged me, and he sent me a message thanking me for a card I had left in his truck. “It is awesome!” he said, and then I didn’t hear from him again. I tried to reach out and his messages were few and far between. He stopped calling me sunshine and asking about the best part of my days. I asked if he had time to see me or talk on the phone, and he said he did not. I don’t know why, but I think he hoped if he was cold enough and if he ignored me for long enough, I would go away.
So I did.
I lay in my bed at 3 in the morning and I played this tape over and over and over again. I felt hurt and angry, but more than anything I felt ashamed that I believed someone might love me and I dreamed about a future with him that was exactly like the present I was experiencing, and I told so many of you, and now if you ask me again about him I have to admit that I was wrong, that I was foolish enough to think that a seemingly normal and nice man could see the parts of me that are not perfect and actually want to be with me, and if I had just kept this a secret then none of you would think maybe, just maybe, no one will ever love me like that.
I lay in my bed with my cat purring beside me, and I thought to myself, if I had a clean and certain way to kill myself right now, I would.
Please don’t be alarmed. I don’t really want to die, and I certainly do not think my life is worthless because a person rejected me. But I feel terrified that I am truly unlovable, that I will die alone, and this pervasive and persistent fear sometimes makes me wish I could curl up into a spiral so tightly that I would inevitably disappear. I want to stop hurting forever, but because I know that’s not possible, my only choice is to go directly to what is happening.
This is my story. This is my truth. This has been a part of me for as long as I can remember.
I want to assure you that it is possible to consider suicide and to want to live at the same time. It is possible to carry this kind of pain day after day and to survive it. And I even think it’s possible to accept and love this part of your authentic self, the part of your body and your mind that is sick and desires, more than anything, to be well.
Tonight before I went to bed, I read this from Brene Brown:
Authenticity is the daily practice of letting go of who we think we’re supposed to be and embracing who we are.
Choosing authenticity means exercising the compassion that comes from knowing that we are all made of strength and struggle…
Mindfully practicing authenticity during our most soul-searching struggles is how we invite grace, joy, and gratitude into our lives.
The Gifts of Imperfection
I read it and I had to put the book down because I started to cry those gut-wrenching sobs that shake me to the center of my being.
I am beautiful and strong. I am dedicated and determined. I am smart and funny. I am thoughtful and compassionate. I am talented and expressive. I think I love and accept myself, but some part of me must not. Some part of me is broken. Some part of me will not let me believe that I am worthy, but I am brave enough to face it.
So I’m working on finding the answers within myself, and I’ve asked for help. I am getting help.
Pray for me, please, if you can, especially if you are lying awake at 3 in the morning.
Being Wendi 