Mirages

Trigger warning: discussions of suicide, depression, and self-harm

When dealing with my existential grief, I found a lot of comfort in this Bojack Horseman meme.

I wanted social media to justify the trauma I went through, and the realization that I can be seen by millions and still carry the same wound led to my spiral. I had to radically accept that no amount of external success can justify what happened to me because what happened was never ok. From that place of acceptance and understanding, I came to see how the abuse I went through was never within my control. And with that, it gave me the agency I needed to change what I could and to find a way to leave the relationships and situations that were harmful.

While it sounds paradoxical that letting god die led to my ability to develop the capacity to deal with uncertainty, that is my truth. I find that accepting people’s imperfections and life’s impermanence allows me to participate in life in a different way. I can accept that people’s inability to meet me where I am is not a failure on my part, but simply as humans we fail each other, and that’s why it’s important to be the expert of your own life. This mentality also allows me to give myself grace for when I fail people, as I'm not the expert in their lives.

When I reflect on my attempt, I can see that, because I was never taught to hold space for uncertainty or to accept that justice was never guaranteed, I concluded that it was better to call it quits than to find a third way. It was very jarring and confronting to accept that maybe the framework in which I lived my whole life could be wrong, and I found it hard to reconcile with never getting closure or justice from people who harmed me. Part of the grace I found was in conversations with others who had experienced what I did. They were mostly atheists or agnostics who kindly pointed out that they had decades to adapt to this reality and trusted adults they could go to as they developed the capacity to live with uncertainty and injustice. I had neither. I saw that I was asking far too much of everyone, of myself, and of my art, because I wanted something external to justify my abuse.

In therapy, one thing I learned to do when I start spiraling and backpedal to my old mindset is saying “shit happens.” It brings me back to reality that, while we can plan and prepare, a lot of life is beyond our control. This saying also took a huge load off my back because there’s no test to prepare for and no trial that awaits me. When I still feel tempted to self-shame, I remind myself that I won’t get ahead by suffering the most and that there’s no reward in martyring myself. I can see that there are many lovable children who are not protected, many faultless children who suffer, and many valuable children who are not chosen. And I’ve learned how to hold space for the grief that comes with that, while knowing that it is not evidence of their worth, nor of mine.

Accepting that human beings are limited helped me see how we are driven by our needs. Many of us, myself included, need to believe we live in a controllable world where, if we just say and believe the right thing, we will win and be rewarded. But being right isn't the same as winning, and being “good” or “better” than someone else isn’t guaranteed to keep you safe. I’ve had to learn not to see myself or others in the binary of good or bad. We are just people with needs.

Now that I’m 3 years in the process of deconstruction, I have found that I can dip back into some of what I learned from religion. Britt Hartley, No Nonsense Spirituality, proposes that there are many important tools to help process uncertainty, grief, and injustice, like awe, mysticism, rituals, rites of passage, and a built-in community that secularism does not offer. While religion demands that you believe its theology to access those tools, I have learned that I can put my own twist on it and still access the benefits.

I made an altar honoring an ancestor I connect with, and spending time there reminds me of where I came from. I surround myself with art to remind me of how far I have come and the cycle of life and death. I host gatherings, and I garden with friends because I need to be part of a community rooted in joy and connection. I can even seek out tarot or astrology readings and use them to work with my subconscious mind rather than accepting them as prophecies. As a result, I found that I don’t need to believe in religion, specific doctrine, or promises of rewards and heaven to find value in living.

Please click here for The Worst Version of Myself or here for My Quiet Kind of Brave