Dear Faith,
I am sorry that you are feeling so crappy right now. It isn’t fair. You did nothing to deserve feeling this way. You did nothing to cause it, and there is nothing that you are doing or not doing that would make it all better. This is emotional chemo. This is something that you cannot get around, over, or under. The way out is straight through the pain until you get to the other side.
I know that it feels like you have always been and always will be in this much pain. The truth is that this feeling will not last. The longest it has ever lasted was six weeks. You didn’t believe it would ever end, but it did. For four wonderful hours, the clouds parted, and you felt the warmth of the sun. You felt more alive than you ever had before. When those four hours ended, you kept the hope that this pain would not be forever. Hold onto that hope.
Don’t let anyone minimize your experience. The pain really is that bad. It’s not your imagination, and you are not just “being dramatic.” Your pain is very real, and you don’t owe anyone any apologies for not being OK with being in so much pain. You don’t have to get through this time with grace: you just have to get through it however you can.
This is not a situation that you can “fix.” There is no magic formula that is going to make the clouds part and remove the intense pressure from your spirit. This is all part of the “emotional chemo” process. Healing moves to its own rhythm, and you are just along for the ride. It will feel more endurable if you stop fighting it and, instead, express what you are feeling.
It is OK to cry. It is OK to get really, really pissed off about it. It is OK to take it easy. If you were going through physical chemo treatments, nobody would expect for you to keep the perfect house or get everything done. You would be given the time and space you needed to heal. This emotional chemo is no different. Take the time you need to nap and rest.
I know how hard it is to believe that this is survivable, but it is. You already survived your childhood, and you have already survived these dark places several times. You can do this, one baby step at a time. You don’t have to get through the rest of your life – you just have to get through right now. Do what you need to do right now, in this moment, to survive it. I promise you – the clouds will part.
Photo credit: Hekatekris
Blooming Lotus 
Yes, you are so right. Dont let anyone minimize your pain. It is so real, intense, and difficult, and you are very brave to face it and deal with it. That takes real courage. Hang in there: “He setteth an end to darkness, and searcheth out all perfection: the stones of darkness, and the shadow of death.” Job 28:3
I’m so sorry you are in this place. This letter is wonderful. Really. It’s helping me see what I need to do. It’s so hard to comfort those inner voices, sometimes, and I have one right now that is really wound up.
I’ve been there too… and I’ve realized that the worst part of the pain is the hopelessness that always accompanied it, in the past. Knowing it is not forever, knowing you are capable of getting through it, is exactly the right thing to remember.
Hope the clouds break soon.
Thank you both.
The clouds parted last night for no apparent reason. There was no magical thing I did or stopped doing — I just suddenly found myself able to breathe again.
A friend texted me this morning saying that she wished she knew what to say to me. That is what spawned this letter. The pain is close enough that I know what could have helped, but it is also far enough away that I have the ability to think about what could have made it better.
– Faith
“The clouds parted last night for no apparent reason.”
Perhaps the reason is you had the courage and all else it takes to do the work or healing and being you.
Journey on,
Michael
Faith, I am glad you are feeling better today.
This very amazing letter to yourself rings true for me in more than one way.
I think that at some point, the pain and darkness -which is real, thanks to the wiring that was established in childhood- grows, if it has been ignored or pushed aside or otherwise not noticed, until it encompasses all the free space left for living. And to leave it behind, there is only one way out, and that is directly through it. There is no other way. The chemo analogy works so well because you have this mass that is growing out of control that must be shrunk down to a manageable size to have a good quality of life.
And it is so true that many others don’t understand. If they haven’t been there, how could they? Especially when they can’t see anything obvious, like a tumor. Someone from our childhood -and long since out of contact until recently- asked my sister why I would want to go back to a period of so much pain. (I had been wondering about contacting her mother since she knew my mother.) She just didn’t understand.
I hope your son is going to be OK. Take it easy, like you have given yourself permission to do.
Thanks, Freasha1964.
My son is fine. The surgery thing turned out to be a false alarm. What looked like a mass in his ear to the pediatrician was really a skin graft coupled with an ear drum infection. The ear doctor could tell the difference easily, which is why he is the expert. :0)
I am still recovering from two weeks of sheer hell emotionally. It has taken me all day to grade not even one full class’ worth of papers. (I can typically grade at a pace of 1 paper every five minutes.) I am having to trudge through everything slowly. I’ll catch back up, but it appears it will take a while.
– Faith
I’m so glad to hear your son is okay. I couldn’t believe how unfair the timing of his health scare was!
I had a professor who used to say that the crawfish got into heaven by backing out of hell. I always liked that saying because when things are really bad, it’s impossible for me to imagine better, much less heaven, but the idea of inching out hell feels almost manageable.
I hope you are inching. 🙂
Ah Faith I am so glad you have this compassion for yourself and it is inspirational. I firmly believe that all we need to heal is more, more, more and yet more compassion. Wonderful when it comes from others, wonderful when it comes from within. A constant struggle that at times feels so impossible to win but you have done it once again and hopefully I will the very next time I find myself in that darkest night of the soul, which, as you say, can last for weeks. Glad your son is OK, I had to deal with hospitalisation of my baby when I was amidst extremely terrible flashbacks within the last year and it was one of the most difficult periods of my healing journey, particularly as I had not a soul to turn to and all around me seemed to be souls stuck in darkness, almost as though I had entered a temporary hell. But came through and learnt some more about myself, and became more firmly rejecting of anyone who judges me at such times instead of pouring light and compassion towards my soul.
Well done Faith. I hope your boy is out of the woods too.
All the best,
mia
That’s a wonderful letter!
Take very gentle care of yourself, you need and deserve to rest and focus on yourself for as long as you need.
Thinking of you,
Bay
Faith,
I have copied and pasted (with a few personal adaptations) your letter into my “to read” file – for the days when I need it. It sounds like such a good idea! Who else but you yourself/me myself knows what you/I need to hear at those times! Thanks for putting into words what I feel “somewhere…kind of…” but cannot express! You did a wonderful job!!
I have been reading your blog for some time now, but never commented. I feel like you wrote this letter to me, too. Thank you for the reminders to go easy on mywelf
[…] Letter to Myself for the Darkest Days [SEO: Written by a survivor of child abuse, this excellent letter to her self is applicable to […]
Faith, I had never considered the idea of writing myself a letter for dark days. Once again, through your willingness to share your pain and growth from your healing experience, you have helped me. Thank you.
I’m glad that the dark clouds have parted for you; pleased to hear your son won’t need surgery.
I hope you can have a restful, peaceful long weekend.
Be well,
wtr
Yes, you can do this one step at a time. That is true for all of us who are survivors of abuse.