Everything is going to be okay, okay?
TRIGGER WARNING: THIS ARTICLE REFERENCES SUICIDE AND EMOTIONAL ABUSE.
My favorite movie genre is a classic coming-of-age story. The ones that have a dramatic build-up to the conflict that changes how the main character views the world. Then they get to apply the lesson in the five-minute resolution before everything becomes rose-colored and the credits roll.
That peak, life-changing, challenge that the character had to overcome made way for them to grow into a better, more thriving version of themselves and we as an audience are left satisfied that for this moment in time, the pain was worth it.
My 2021 was the conflict that forces my character (me) to grow.
For starters, I was doing a LOT. I had started a new job and was busy acclimating to all the new people, processes, and policies that come with that. I was in the full swing of operating as a full-time student in a Master's program and battling the little voice that constantly asked me who I was to pursue a grad degree. I become a homeowner. I tried to keep up with a surge of social activity that followed the burst of #vaxxedandwaxed posts. I took up running and dated and navigated with a new therapist. And those were just my immediate tasks - I still wanted to support and be intentional with my friends and family as they navigated their own journeys. And all of this amidst the Covid-19 pandemic surging on. By mid-summer, I found myself exhausted, in a soul-crushing way that made me feel like I was on the verge of collapse. In hindsight, it's so easy to recognize that I had stretched myself far too thin. But at the time, I just thought I was doing everything that I was ~supposed~ to do. I had convinced myself, or better let the ideals of capitalism convince me, that this was actually the least I could be doing to ensure success against my goals. So I continued to do it all, waving off thoughts of "this is too much" and mustering a can-do, fake it-until-you-make-it attitude.
I met him in June. At the time I treated it like any other time I met a man and exchanged numbers - nonchalantly. When our first and second and third date left me feeling giddy, I told myself that it was because he had clearly dated around and had learned how to court. But the truth is that our dates weren't amazing because they would be generally accepted as good dates. They were amazing because he deeply listened to me and intentionally gave me dates that let me breathe. That let me let my hair down and not have it all together and just laugh. He quickly became someone I adored. Someone who never let me have a bad day. Someone who showed me what it really meant to have a partner - we learned and laughed and grew so much together. He made me feel deeply seen, heard, and cared for in a way that made my mind still. I found myself excited to do the most mundane tasks because doing them with him brought me inexplicable joy. I found myself talking to my mom and my sister and my aunt more than ever- people who had seen relationships through longevity because I wanted to deeply nurture and protect mine. I found myself focused less on providing all the updates about being happy, and just being present and basking in that happiness. I found myself no longer wanting to just go with the flow, but to purposefully and intentionally build with this man who so thoughtfully shared his heart and dreams with me and whose actions never left me confused or wondering if he was going to be there the next day.
On Sunday, November 14th, my partner, roommate, confidant, and a constant reminder of tangible support attempted suicide. It was very much like an out-of-body experience. In my head, I know about crisis hotlines, mental health, and whatnot but at that moment every single logical thought ceased to exist in my mind. And given the percentage of mental health episodes that result in death at the hands of the police, I had no idea who to call. Looking back, every action experts advise against doing in a crisis such as that, I did. I remember looking into my partner's eyes and only seeing black holes. He was so far disconnected from me and when I looked into his eyes, the gentleness I usually saw was replaced by fear. Whether it be muscle memory from RA training, luck, the abundance of God's grace in my life, or all three, both my partner and I made it out of that moment safely.
While I knew that life had handed my partner some very heavy blows in an intensely short amount of time, I had no idea the depth of his pain. Or how much he had been fighting the thought that the world was better off without him. Or that that day was going to be the day when he wanted to give up the fight. Suicide was something I had only understood in theory - based on one-off tweets and Instagram posts. And while that event was traumatic enough for both of us, the aftershock of the news shattered my already fragmented heart. I had never spent much time thinking about how I would communicate a tragedy. In the whirlwind, I did my best to communicate with my immediate network. Folks that had been excitedly planning to arrive a few days later to formally celebrate my graduation from my master's program and officially warm my new home. No one is ever really prepared to receive that type of news. I imagine how all the more shocking it is when you may have concerns about the relationship or feel like this was the only information you knew about it. It can be so easy to want answers, be angry, and feel a need to share your perspective on all the things that were wrong in the relationship. And while reflecting is a critical piece of life to understand how our decisions and actions are aligning with what we say we want out of life - active grief requires people that can simply sit in the storm with you. People who even if they have no idea how to make it feel better, they will take time and care to simply clear the path of the storm while you find a way to stand again.
AS I CONTINUE TO PROCESS THE EVENT, I TRY TO TELL MYSELF THAT THIS WON'T CHANGE ME. BUT THAT'S UNREALISTIC. THE TRUTH IS THAT WE ARE ALL A MOMENT AWAY FROM A TRAGEDY THAT MAY CHANGE OUR PERSPECTIVE OR OUR ENTIRE LIVES. AND WHILE THIS MAY BE UNAVOIDABLE, ALL HOPE IS NOT LOST. IF EACH OF US AS HUMANS WILL HAVE LIFE EVENTS THAT BREAK OUR HEARTS AND SPIRITS, THE LEAST WE CAN DO IS LEARN TO BE A SOFT PLACE TO LAND FOR EACH OTHER.
Whether a tragedy is predictable or not, we can help each other to pick up the pieces. And the hardest part of helping someone pick up the pieces is learning to decenter ourselves. So many of life's events cannot be understood, predicted, or undone.
And sure, are there signs that I recognize now that I can label as emotionally abusive behaviors? Yes. Was I willing to work through those abusive behaviors that I thought of as "relationship challenges" because of how much my partner met my active needs? Yes. Did my partner's unhealthy coping mechanisms exacerbate his pain and cause me harm? Yes. But am I alone and unique in experiencing this traumatic event and those seemingly small events that led up to it? Absolutely not.
And I guess that's what I'm choosing to see and hold onto as my glimmer of hope in a tumultuous year. That I am not alone. And that by speaking up and sharing my story, I've been able to find support and community in places I would have never imagined. People in my close circle have shared their stories of suicidal ideation or how they've experienced their friends and family's pain that resulted in suicide attempts.
Through an incredibly tough year, I've been finding a lot of peace in knowing that so much of how we go through that world is reflective of our own experiences, perspectives, desires, goals, and so on. I think my second greatest strength is being able to offer compassion to my former partner, my family and friends, and others because I do truly think that everyone was trying their best based on what they know, their perspectives, and their concerns. I can hold him accountable for his actions that day and before AND understand that I have so much more to learn about mental health and mental illness for it to exist beyond a theory in my mind.
2021 has highlighted how highly I regard other people's opinions of me. I've realized how much of my own goals and dreams have been tied to my desire to hear people, especially those closest to me, say that they are proud of me. I've made so many decisions in life awaiting the smiles of others approving my choices. I could've moved slower in the relationship. I could have communicated boundaries instead of largely withholding my relationship developments outside of my sister. I could have shared more of the mundane things my partner made a lot better while we dated so that my network had a better understanding of my relationship. I also could have put far less stress on myself to accomplish so many of my dreams all at once. But I could have done all of these things differently and still found myself needing to process this most recent event. I think that's what my therapist would call working towards acceptance and that’s a learning from this too.
As I look forward to this year, I look forward to finding more ways to make decisions based on my own desires. That I get comfortable accepting that everyone won't understand my choices. That my decisions only have to make sense to me. I pray that I keep my risk-taking spirit. Because, at the end of the day, I realize I'm not afraid of risk or the fall. I'm afraid of having to pick up the pieces alone. In romance, in friendships, in our careers, and in our families, there will always be choices and always be risks. And I hope you choose the options that make you feel most alive and that you always have a soft place to land.
graciously,
Jonea
