It’s Time To Talk About

A couple years ago I had back surgery. I had to take a couple weeks leave from work to recover physically from the life-improving procedure and to shake the effects the anesthesia had on my brain. The following is the first piece I wrote after the surgery. I share this to inspire; I think this particular piece offers hope and encourages resilience in tough times:

Surgery is no fun for the body. The incision, an inch-and-a-half long puckered intrusion into my spine, was definitely a violation my body raged against. However, healing is happening and the symptoms that called for the surgery are absent. I call this a blessing.

I suffered an acute bout of depression coupled with desperation this week. I wanted to go back to work. I wanted to contribute and be part of something meaningful. My brain and body was not ready. I complained, via private message, to my friend. She responded something along the lines of, “Maybe this delay is a time for you to be learning some lesson.” I rolled my eyes and mentally agreed to listen and watch. I thought if there were some message or lesson I needed to learn, they by all means, show me.

During this time the hotly contested Supreme Court nomination hearings were happening, and I watched all of it. I listened to the testimonies of the nominee and of those opposing his nomination. I fielded phone calls and messages from friends that were on edge, hurting, fearful, confused, saddened, and enraged through all of this. That night, I went to bed with some hope that perhaps there might be some good come of that messy situation.

I watched the vote the next day and realized I was wrong. There was no good in that situation, and I was truly upset. For several days after, I had bouts of tears and sadness that would show up almost without provocation. I felt raw. I felt naked. I felt like a cornered beast. I learned in the following days that I had to rely on the love and support of my own people and my support system, and the light that lives inside of me rather than feebly hope for just and right outcomes.

I decided next that I would work diligently on self-care. I would get stronger so I could feel I had some power in this world. I started walking the best I could in my post-op condition. I washed my hair. I painted my toes the violent crimson red that corresponded with my own traumas. I reached out to friends that had been suffering. I took time for introspection: I looked to the little girl who lives within. The little girl that learned, much too young, that the world is not safe. The world is scary. The world is dark. Trust no one. Tell no one. The secrets are to be kept quiet, always. The frightened child, for whom I mentally sunk to my knees, opened my arms, embraced and cried for, she is still in there. She is still frightened and vulnerable. I held her, rocked her, and soothed her. I told her, swore to her, that I would not let her be hurt again. I swear to myself, please, don’t fail her.

Flash forward a day or so. I am walking again, this time with my young son. I was pointing out plants and other interesting things as we strolled together. He reaches his hand to mine, twines our fingers together. In that same moment, a monarch butterfly flies by. The monarch, buffered by the wind, flew on bravely and valiantly. “Oh, look at the Monarch,” I say, and then follow with, “I’ve read they are going extinct. What do you think of that, kiddo?” The child looks at me and says, “Some people hurt butterflies on purpose. Those people are bad people.”

My son, my beautiful

son, he gets it.

Friends, I share this old story because I have been thinking about how there is so much divisiveness today, and so much fear. I know that COVID-19 is increasing already existing anxiety, depression, and trauma symptoms. I feel that we all could use a sign. So here it is: Don’t give up, keep going, ask for help when you need it, and take the time to take care of yourself. Finally, please, be kind; you never know what someone might be going through.

Sarah knows a thing or two about addiction and recovery. Daughter, sister, and friend to wonderful people who have battled substance use disorder, codependency, and mental health stigma. Survivor.Advocate.