By A Comeaux
He watched me cry for 159 days straight. Many of those were from my bed, in the car, at church or leaving his school and sometimes as he was talking to me about his day. I stopped counting the days because I couldn’t hide anymore. I wore my tears in the grocery store as a badge of honor. ‘Yes I’m sad and I still have to cook.
I’m depressed and I still have to Mother and wash clothes and answer questions I have no words for. I had to confront him and admit, ‘mommy is sad’…
I was mourning the loss of the sweetest love I’d known, plus a sistren of 18yrs shredded our friendship coupled with the loss of my father’s life as we knew it. All in one season. In one month our lives shifted from a bubbly family full of support and things to do, to a house of mourning with no one coming home for dinner. He was left in the beast of the storm, handing me tissues telling me it’d be Ok, rubbing my back inviting the tears to flow harder from the guilt of being nurtured by my only child. This season of depression sank me in ways I never knew I’d drown in. Silence filled the air replacing conversations now muted in pain. The tension was palpable from the bitterness of losing my love. The stench of my father’s addiction fumigated the air choking me, then I stopped eating.
Nightmares greeted my mornings with his bus arriving then dropping him off without me noticing an hour had passed.
This was grief. This was me dying alive inside wallowing in yesterday with a relentless desire to find the bottom.
It was further away than a fall ever should be. I remember asking, ‘where is the bottom’, ‘when does it let up’, ‘I can’t stop falling deeper in this sadness’, ‘I’m literally reaching for the bottom and I can’t find it’… My Sun suffered the loss of losing his grandPal, fishing buddy and business partner as he was a Dad to us both. My trifecta was sabotaged with a wreckage no one could save me from. My table now had one leg, me, and I was breaking. He watched this between deliveries for dinner and too many nights of a movie before bed. I was dehydrated of affection with no words for his tender heart to be soothed; I had no lies that things would be ok soon because I had no evidence of relief. He watched me deteriorate and all I could say was ‘I’m sorry, baby, mama’s heart is hurting bad’…
This went on for the greater part of the year, with a breakthrough coming in a glimpse of a changed season. There was no therapy I could sit through to fill the voids of the 3 most important people in my life, now gone.
The emptiness that birthed in my life was too loud to bare, too big for a smoke or drink to fill and I was too sad to even consider a rebound lover to lick my wounds. I pleaded to the god within and throughout in a way that sounded more like a forced surrendering than a soul obliging help. I can’t tell you the day the darkness broke open. I can’t tell you when I stopped crying. I remember my mother’s tears after seeing my ribs tell how I hadn’t eaten for months. I remember calls of concern from afar but this battle was one I’d have to fight alone. I told them I’d get better. No idea how because my appetite left when my father admitted his relapse & my king was found to be a liar. Yet slowly I found my taste-buds but my willingness to cook was still hesitant. I showered daily and left my bed more. I allocated times to cry instead of allowing the tears to show out at a moments notice. I began to journal and greet my Sun in the morning and pray nightly. I invited life to surface after releasing my grip on the deep end of sorrow. I realized though toxic and broken, the memories of them were all I had left so clinging to them was my way of holding on to the things I’d loved so deeply, for so long.
My heart took its first crack in June 2018 and the first week of June 2019 I left the country to travel the world alone for 5 weeks to heal, write and study holistic health & mental wellness.
During my spiritual sabbatical I learned more about my soul than I did the ailments I was studying. I listened to and felt my hearts holes close by way of acceptance. I aligned my purpose with my passions and made a promise to do only what I believe in with my time & energy moving forward. One thing I learned about depression, Living is a Choice. It would’ve been easy to operate in my lower self and everyone would say, “well she did lose everyone she loved, what would you do?”
They would’ve accepted my addiction, my lustful advances and my familial neglect and counted it as a sad girl’s outburst. My solitary globe travels gave me a confidence in Self, God & a faith restored that I needed to thrive. Many have asked would I leave my man sooner next time, would I retaliate against those who did me wrong unjustly and the answer is No. I believe in Love & Sisterhood, still. I believed them and their purpose wasn’t what I’d thought it would be, but it was a few of the most valuable lessons I’ve ever earned. I trust myself today. I believe in my capabilities to hold sacred and honest relationships until they no longer serve me.
I know people can love you and hurt you. I know its Ok to not let them or any others who resemble those traits do the same again.
Today, I won’t let another’s choices ruin me, even if I’m deeply affected by it.
I vow to save myself in all storms, so I can be a covering to wombseed. I have language to speak my needs and courage to walk away when they are compromised. My love taught me to be BIG next time because I resented him for my minimizing myself to be convenient for him to love, and he still didn’t. He taught me you can be forgiving of indiscretions but shown no mercy when you need compassion. It took me a long while to forgive him for covertly leaking our boat while I relentlessly rowed to keep us afloat.
He left me starved after I fed him well, like throwing rocks & hiding his hands, he broke things and blamed me for their malfunction.
My sister-friend taught me the deep-rooted psychological affects of lust and how no one is safe from the wrath of misplaced jealousy in rage. My father’s addiction and trauma after relapse teaches me to count ones demons as surely as we count blessings, as ignoring those vain affections in addiction is a slippery slope to suicide and turmoil no one can come back from. How cunning depression can be. Tempting me to just let go and wallow when every spirit both high & low knows I was born to serve humanity and help others find freedom. How deceitful tainted love can be to trick us to lessen our value just stay connected to a dead root because it looks better than leaving and being alone.
You can leave and be happy with a fresh, healthy, complimenting Love willing to greet you in the peace & passion you desire and deserve.
We don’t hear these promises when we convince ourselves to settle, but that is the language we need on our tongue far more than a plea for a mediocre lover to stay. I tell myself I deserve what I desire because I check my spirit and the root of its wants and they align with the god within for my good. So I may be the very being I was created for. To mother well, to be an exceptional daughter, and to show myself that I can do anything I put my mind to, including, Live.
I vow to not ever take a breath for granted, not a tender day with my Sun wasted in sorrow nor a season to pass in the fog of grief.
I can’t avoid pain, but I will mother-warrior through life because I survived my goliath unscathed. I’m grateful my Sun witnessed that fall because he was front row to my rise, he knows its possible and required to thrive after the wreckage of heartbreak.
Connect with A Comeaux on Twitter @kcospoke.