Safe Spaces in Trying Times
Trigger Warning: Domestic Violence, Depression, Suicide
If you have read any of my books (Trials & Tribulations of a Healing Heart, Everything But a Smile), you probably picked up on the fact that I’ve struggled with depression for a long time. I was first diagnosed at 15, but if times were different, I probably would have been diagnosed at five. Even though I’ve struggled with depression for so long, I made a major breakthrough in my understanding of depression at 40.
Whenever I heard about celebrities dying by suicide, I never felt sad for them or their loved ones. Curiosity consumed me. I always read the reactions and watched how people around them acted so surprised. I felt sad for the loss their loved ones experienced but not for their confusion. I never understood my lack of reaction, but I get it now. It took me decades, but it all makes sense.
I keep seeing news articles and social media posts about people murdered by their spouses (lovers, exes, etc.). My mind starts to spiral with questions every time I see this. Was this murder a surprise in their mind or something they feared for a while? If they feared it, did they feel safe telling someone, or were they trying their best to keep up appearances? If murder at the hands of their spouse was something they feared, what stopped them from leaving? Did they have support, and did they feel safe enough to share their story? Did they feel safe enough to receive help? Not just safe from their spouse's repercussions but from others' gossip and judgment.
Did the loved ones of the suicide and domestic violence murder victims even know there was a problem? How close were they really? The reality is people need to feel safe to speak their pain and truth in order for their loved ones to know in the first place. Today psychologists are discovering the need for openness and connection. The “Rat Park” study discussed the connection between “lack of connection” and addiction. The relevance of this article with regard to depression is that if you know anything about psychiatric hospitals, there was a time when addicts would join the same group therapies as the people suffering from depression after they detoxed. Check out this article by Psychiatric Times.
Are our connections healthy? As we navigate life, do we have true healthy support systems that make us feel comfortable enough to share the truth of our suffering - without feeling like our pain is being processed through a megaphone without our permission or suffering judgment? People cope with this by hiding who they are, and people act surprised when the news of death comes by.
"The more that depressed participants hid aspects of themselves, the more it may have gotten in the way of reaching out to others, a necessary step for recovery. Self-concealment is likely to worsen depression by interfering with actual social connection, as well as by reducing perceived social support, a key driver of resilience.” - Psychology Today
Are the connections we have aware of how to be a safe space? In my experience, people know how to be a safe space from the common sense of knowing how they would want to be treated in trying times but choose not to for various reasons.
Time and Titles Mean Nothing
Childhood ties are intriguing. The very people who watched you grow up could look at you as an enemy, even while you are still a child. You might feel it, but they’d never admit it, even to themselves. These people seem to get a hard-on for every mistake and failure in your life, whether small or large. Sometimes they are the ones who are the first to speak about your misfortune - likely behind your back. Either way, their time in your life, their title, and your feelings for them give them access to you that would be off-limits to a stranger. Without the proper boundaries and self-awareness, these ties can be dangerous.
I’ve had some of the most amazing connections with people I met later in life - some within the past few years. I attribute this to my healing and growth, reflecting my ability to attract amazing people, but even during times of healing and growth, there were times I was working through trauma. Times like this can be tricky because when your head is down and you are licking your wounds, it’s hard to tell the difference between a trauma bond and a genuine connection.
Some people are happy to be down with you in your hard times, but as you arise, your connection changes for the worse, especially if things aren’t changing for the better for them. The connection you created with another changed over time, as it should. Our connections evolve, devolve, or remain neutral - oftentimes without us noticing the change in course. This can be dangerous. Imagine sharing something with someone when you were so wrapped up in your pain that you didn’t notice the change in connection from their side. The person you trusted does not exist anymore. So then you learn the hard way to put a clamp in that connection to avoid additional pain and exposure.
This is a lesson I’ve learned too many times. I’ve suffered in silence with depression at the hands of a spouse and the loss and/or exposure of a person I thought was a connection - a safe place.
At The Hands of a Spouse
If you grew up in a home where you listened to someone apologize and promise to change after hurting you repeatedly, how do you think that would impact you as an adult? That person would become untrusting and cut people off immediately - that makes the most sense, right? But the reality is that there was a part of me that always wished that I was worthy of the change and worthy of a true apology that was more than words. So as an adult, when I would think about who I was as a person, how good I was to them, and how much they said they loved me and would change this time, it just made sense - why? Because I would change for them. No matter the type of relationship, if I know I’m hurting you, I will stop. There was one person in my life who I had temporarily cut contact with completely because I knew that even in truth and defense of myself, my tongue would destroy them with the truth they seemed to forget or be unaware of - and in relation to the topic at hand, I sat front row to their pain in the past.
My theory is that victims of spousal abuse go back and forth between a childlike hope of change, trying to maintain appearances, and being afraid to leave. I explained the childlike hope above. Keeping up appearances relates to people not wanting to deal with what comes with people knowing how messed up things are:
If they know, they will tell my business
If they know, it will be a burden on them emotionally
If they know, they can’t help me anyway
If they know, they won’t help - they will enjoy my misery
If they know, they won’t look at me the same
If they know I am weak
If they know, they will blame me
Being afraid to leave means dealing with the consequences of:
Being found
Lies told to demonize you and victimize the aggressor
Being able to afford to leave
Displacing children
Stalking/Living in fear
Losing connections
Losing your material possessions
Losing your independence and privacy
Facing a whole new world of gossip and jest over your misery
I have this theory because I have lived this a few times this lifetime. I’ve had nights where I wasn’t sure if I would wake up. I have permanent scars covered by beautiful tattoos. I’ve been hunted and stalked like prey - my every movement was documented and transmitted by people working together like I had been tagged. I’ve looked into the face of police officers who laughed at my pain, swelling, and scars. I finally left to come across family members I never spoke to about my abuse or my life, making jokes about the abuse I suffered.
In the midst of it all, what eventually broke the hope cycle was asking myself questions like, “If you die, what will happen to the kids? Where will they go? Will they live?” More recently, for each of my three girls, there was a moment of concern that I never wanted them to relive. The moments weren’t very traumatic for two of them, but heavily traumatic for one. It’s weird how my brain works. I was willing to endure with the hope of change, but for them, I couldn’t. I didn’t want them to see their mother being mistreated and continue the generational curse of being a good woman to a horrible man. I didn’t want them to face any abuse, and most importantly, I didn’t want them to find me dead or hear of my death at the hands of a spouse.
If the people who died at the hands of their spouse were blindsided by their murder and ended up dead, I could understand that too. Even as an intuitive, I’ve been “blind to my own life” like Aunt Mozelle in Eve’s Bayou. In my case, it is specifically my love life, and at 40, I now understand the part of me that needed to heal to regain this vision. If you know me, you know I’m not afraid to face myself or heal - no matter how much it hurts.
Depression and Suicide
“People really out here dying of depression and can’t tell nobody because you gossip about them instead of helping.” Author Unknown
One of the reasons why I never felt sad about the confusion of the loved ones of people who died by suicide or the impact on their loved ones is similar to how I feel about people who die of cancer. There is a relief for the person who is suffering. They are no longer suffering in this human body form. From what I know about the soul journey, I realize some people who commit suicide suffer in a new form. The energy just transfers, but some of them move forward to their next journey in life.
When I hear about someone who has suffered from cancer for a long time, I think about how relieved they will be when this journey is over if they are not meant to recover. I also consider that the family had time to prepare mentally, fiscally, and emotionally for their loss. On the other hand, I often feel bad for people who suddenly lose people through - heart attacks, murders, aneurysms, etc. However, suicide is different from my perspective.
I’m glad Psychology Today wrote the article I mentioned above, but I’ve always questioned the connections of the person who died by suicide:
Did they have a solid connection with someone?
If so, how is that person?
Did they have a safe space?
Was there a defining moment that helped them make that decision, or were they suffering for a long time?
If they suffered from depression, were they met with the sympathy and care of a cancer patient or person with a physical illness, or did they just become the new hot topic to pick apart and make fun of at a gathering of friends and family?
As I mentioned before, I was first diagnosed with depression at 15, but between the ages of 12 and 21, I attempted suicide too many times to count. What shifted at 21 was that I became pregnant with my firstborn daughter. The depression would come back here and there after 21, but my mission for her kept me from trying to stop living.
My mission was to tell her the truth of life as she aged, so she doesn’t:
Buy into the fairytale sold to us through TV screens of people pretending their life and way of life is happy, correct, and perfect
Make the same mistakes I made
Make the same mistakes the women in our bloodline have made with men
Miss out on the power of loving herself
When she was about 1.5/2 years old, I had a psychic download about writing a book for my daughters; at the time, she was the only one. Today I have three. OMG, I have so much material it makes no sense. The last book I wrote, “Trials & Tribulations of a Healing Heart,” was supposed to be more in line with the download, but I paused on it and opted for the poetry associated with my healing journey. The material is still there, but I honestly didn’t feel ready to publish such a book when I was still in the middle of a domestic violence storm. More healing, leaving, and loving on me was needed.
Since 21, there have been some dark times where I have been mentally/emotionally hanging on by a thread. Still, I’ve stayed here for her and two more sisters who came as unexpectedly as her, yet I am determined to heal and fight through the pain while eliminating the eject button.
The Loved Ones
Being real and vocal about your pain to others and yourself takes bravery that most people never acknowledge. Telling other people is not safe because determining who is safe to share your shadow, hurt and wounds with is a crap shoot for various reasons:
Is the connection you used to have with another still as you thought it was?
Will they broadcast your moments of vulnerability to others?
Will they use the information against you?
This is why vulnerability is a strength and not a weakness. I have immense respect for anyone who can be so open to sharing themselves, especially with those they call friends and family.
Today I watched DJ Paul from Three Six Mafia rant about how he feels about funerals. He said they were full of groupies, and the funeral he was referencing was for Gangsta Boo (RIP). He mentioned how he paid for the funeral, but he does not go to funerals and why. I felt him in a major way. I’ve seen people do some scandalous things behind wanting attention and clout behind the death services of another. I’ll have to add that to a book. Whew!!
Just as people do things for clout and attention at the death of another, the same goes for the living. Imagine pouring your heart out at your lowest moments, and someone listens and fakes remorse for what you are going through to bring your business as an offering of tea to the people who know you. Just because they know you does not mean you feel comfortable discussing your business with them. Because if you wanted them to know, you would have told them, right?
There is a scene in Hunger Games Catching Fire where Finnick discusses the value of secrets. This was the first time I looked at gossip as a matter of exchange. In real life, people use your secrets as an offering to get closer to others, gain attention, clout, power, control, and even favors. In this lifetime, I have watched people use my secrets to mend a broken relationship with another. People overlook their power. People not only use your secrets for gain but also to drive wedges between loved ones and dissolve connections to try to manipulate how others feel about you. Being naive is cute, but let’s not forget the added judgments and lies that distort your truth. This is dangerous and powerful work.
In 2022 I watched my pain:
Empower people by making them feel good about themselves
because they realize they are no longer alone
because they feel good about being better than someone - specifically me
Burden people
Provide Entertainment - Especially for those whose juices flow at a whiff of my discomfort or misery.
I’m not perfect, and I haven’t been innocent in this. Years ago, a loved one came to stay with me. She had a plan to leave her man without conflict easily. All was well. She ended up taking him back temporarily - but that is a different story…her story. While she was staying with me, I told another loved one about her troubles. At the time, I didn’t think much of it, but the look on her face during a conversation with me and the other loved one will forever stick with me. Something I said in the conversation let her know I shared her pain. My brain put a bookmark on that moment.
As I continued my own healing, I realized something about myself. The man struggles and drama she was experiencing were also my own. I was sharing her pain with another loved one while hiding my own. A few years after that day and a few years before now, I apologized to her when I saw her face to face and confessed that I was deflecting my own pain, which she was there to witness, but never brought up. I explained how much I appreciated her and loved her dearly. I was forgiven, but if she is anything like me, she has not forgotten.
I have fucked up in more than this way in life. I am not fueled by people thinking I’m amazing. I don’t need to present you with my accomplishments because I sit in the reality of my successes and failures. I actively seek out what needs to be fixed to heal and be better, and it feels like a never-ending game of Super Mario Brothers. Every time I beat the boss, I feel a sense of relief and pride and eventually find more of me to fix and heal. I’m cool with this because I want to evolve all the way around, especially as a mother. I want these generational curses broken. I don’t want their inheritance to include my generational pain and mistakes.
Generational Curses
These days, when people speak of generational curses, they usually speak of love(romantic, platonic, familial) and money. Recently, the conversation has picked up around parenting practices and mental health. For the sake of this piece, we are speaking of the tongue, which impacts all topics mentioned above.
Since my reflection and apology to my loved one, I have paid more attention to how I communicate and receive information and how others do the same with me. When people tell me the stories of another, what is their purpose? Judgment, entertainment, or cultivating resources and ideas for support? When I speak about someone, I also check myself for the same questions. If there is a story to tell for the sake of lessons, am I giving the people involved anonymity?
Grown Folks Business
When I was a child, I remember being around grown folks talking during family gatherings. It was usually a group of women telling the personal business of the past or present related to a family member who was not there, in another room, or their own children. The emotions varied depending on the topic and the individuals involved. At some point, I would get shooed away because I was a child in grown folks' business.
As I got older, the exiles from the circles became less frequent, but the energies remained the same. Compassion, love, support, judgment, gossip, and entertainment were always present. The energies that had the most dominance depended on the topics and who was in attendance. As a child, many of us wanted to be a part of these circles. They seemed important, entertaining, dramatic, and sometimes funny, but at who’s expense? At some point, it was at your expense and likely brought up by a loved one. Remember those loved ones I mentioned in the beginning who get a hard-on and an ego boost for your misfortunes; they were there too.
There was a lot to learn at these circles if you are smart - keep secrets, especially about yourself, and avoid these gatherings like the plague or if you go show your face, eat the food and keep the conversation light. If you choose the show your face route, come up with exit statements: bathroom, get something out of the car, etc.
Who wants to be the one laughed at or judged? These circles make or break people’s relationships with their loved ones with 2nd and even 3rd hand information without anyone asking for all of the 1st hand people’s perspectives. Why? Because it wasn’t their business in the first place. Scarlet letters and labels are handed out without more than one account of what happened. People distance themselves and then share their 3rd and 4th accounts of the situation with others who weren’t part of the original story or at the circle of judgment. Judgment and comedic relief often overpower compassion, love, and support. So what is the point? To create your real-life reality show? To make yourself feel better about who you are or to distract you from the pain you are already feeling in your own life?
Part of the generational curse of the tongue is all is based on ignorance and immaturity:
People don’t know how to help others going through a social crisis
People lack boundaries
People are willing to sacrifice your privacy and misfortune for the attention of others.
People are too judgmental
Many people have adverse feelings about therapy
With good reason
Thank goodness for updates in clinical therapy
People are childish
People consume too much drama and apply what they see to real-life - reality shows, soap operas, etc.
Where Are The Safe Spaces?
About 20 years ago, I moved back to my place of birth at my doctor's suggestion. I was in an outpatient program for depression, and the doctor felt like a different scene would be good for me. I moved around more than most as a kid, so I didn’t have a strong bond with loved ones as most people would, but I was welcomed with open arms. When I returned to my place of birth, I did not get back into an outpatient program, but found a therapist quickly and started regular therapy. Therapy wasn’t a dirty word around the loved ones I was with, but they still seemed unaware of the symptoms of depression, even though at least one of them had been previously diagnosed.
A group of loved ones from where I lived came to visit for the holidays. I missed them and hadn’t seen them in a little while, so it felt good, but on Christmas Day, one of them started in on one of their verbal abuse attacks against another loved one and me that I’d dealt with my whole life. Try your best to ignore, deflect or go along to get along; they stayed true to themselves and didn’t stop until they saw you suffer enough. A tear down the cheek wasn’t enough. You had to be sobbing. That’s when they felt better. That is when they would stop. The loved ones from out of town left to go back home the day after Christmas, and it wasn’t the relief it should have been. It was the return of the thoughts that had me in the outpatient program back in the other town, the thoughts that fueled my many suicide attempts since 12 years old.
The night of December 30th, I was officially done. As I sat in the bathtub, I called the only person in the world who I felt loved me and told them just how much I loved them. Maybe they were psychic. Perhaps they knew me that well, but they knew something was wrong and didn’t take that phone call for face value. The next thing I knew, the fire department was opening the door, and I was being taken away in handcuffs to the hospital. When I made it to the hospital, it was December 31st, and I lay strapped to a hospital bed in an emergency room with bandaged wrists.
One of the hardest parts about being depressed is people knowing just how depressed you are. Often, the proof of existence is in your medication, and that’s not too hardcore. The medicine commercials and time make taking depression medication more acceptable today. Still, a hospital visit and suicide attempt put a neon sign on, something you would hide to keep up appearances and keep people from talking, judging, and spreading 3rd and 4th hand information.
I recently saw my records, and it said I was in there from December 31st, 2001, to January 2nd of, 2002. The day before I left the hospital, I got a visit from a loved one. I had mixed feelings about their visit because of my embarrassment, but I smiled anyway. They came and talked to me like I was putting on some sort of show like I was doing a stunt on a bike without a helmet and scaring everyone. They sat in my face and said, “You can’t be doing that. You will scare your (loved one), and she can’t handle that.” That moment reaffirmed my feelings of being alone in the world. I left town months later.
18 years later, we were in the car together, and they laughed, pointed at the hospital, and said, “You remember that place?” I said no because I couldn’t see any signs and didn’t know where I was. “That’s where you were,” they laughed. Memories of the day they visited me at the hospital came back, and I had nothing to say. After almost 20 years, depression and suicide are still a joke.
Two years later, in an emotional storm after being physically abused by my spouse, I told this person what I was experiencing. Months later, when I finally left my spouse, a cousin, who I never spoke to about my personal life, made a joke about my physical abuse at a family gathering.
As far as I’m concerned, I have no safe spaces. Sometimes I feel like there are, but they only have a short time window where they are safe. To save my own life I have had to take risks on people, which brings its own level of anxiety.
I am a safe space. I’ve spent most of my life collecting the tears of abused (physical, mental & emotional) spouses, the suicidal, and the depressed. I have always been where broken hearts go, but I don’t have many safe spaces when it's my time. I am blessed to have people when I have them, but my experiences don’t leave me with much trust in humans. Despite how I have been treated, it does not stop me from treating others how I want to be treated; I exist without expectations and am grateful for what I am given.
Happenings, Lessons, Resolutions, and Manifestations
In 2022 alone, I had plenty of things happen that changed my perspective about life, love, and my continued existence on Earth in this form. I made big changes at the end of 2022 and felt it was premature for me to make resolutions because I was still processing 2022. Then I thought about how I’ve always felt like the new year should start with spring; apparently, more people felt the same way. Spring is a time of new beginnings, and here we are celebrating a new year just after winter solstice every year like we don’t know better, but we cave to consumer cycles and ignore nature cycles like always.
Getting the western world to change the time of the new year is not something I want to put my energy into at this time, but I do feel like the call of the January 1st new year is a signal to pause and reflect on WTF happened the year before - good and bad. This will help us make better resolutions and manifestation goals for the upcoming spring. If you haven’t already, check out my article on Soul Trine, titled “Resolutions at The Wrong Time?” I get deeper into the new year placement concerns in this article and introduce my timing solution.
I created a $2.49 downloadable workbook called Happenings, Lessons, Resolutions, and Manifestations Journal to help people through processing the happenings of 2022. The journal helps the reader work through the following:
What Happened
Lessons Learned
Resolutions
Manifestation Goals
It has helped me with the following:
Gain better direction for the blooms I have planned for the spring season
Find sunshine in my storms
Find gratitude in situations where all I saw was pain
Create guard rails to avoid repeating unpleasant situations for 2023
Better define resolutions and manifestation goals
My 2023 Prayer For You
For 2023 and beyond, I hope this year and every year afterward are better for you. I pray you find solid, safe spaces that withstand the test of time, trials, and tribulations. I pray that when your loved ones gather, compassion and support overpower the energies of gossip, judgment, and entertainment at the expense of another. I pray that if you are in danger, you are greeted with open arms, compassion, confidentiality, direction, and support.