Reasons You Shouldn’t Fuck Kids

Reason #247: Changing my Mantra

I keep catching myself thinking “I wish I were dead”.  Generally, this thought happens when I am faced with other thoughts about my present situation.  Like when I think about my husband turning into a woman.  Or when I think about my upcoming move into the guest bedroom.  (Mom and I spent the last week putting new wallpaper up in that bedroom, so that I won’t be as depressed when I move in there.) Or when I think about checking under the bed and in the closet of my new bedroom, every night.  Or when I think about waking up in the middle of the night, scared and alone in my new room, like I used to in every room I have lived in before I met my husband, ever since that babysitter showed my brother and I that evil exists in the world.

The thing is, I am not suicidal.  I used to be suicidal, and I feel that this thought – the “I wish I were dead” thought – is not accurate.  It’s almost disingenous, and in a way, I feel it is disrespectful to the me I used to be, the one who wished for death so badly that when I was asked by my best friend what I wanted for my 21st birthday, I said “Death.”

I don’t wish I were dead right now.  So I thought long and hard about what it is that I really want when I think that horrible thought.  I think what I am really seeking is an end to this terrible pain.

This past weekend, my mom was talking about the kind of torment my husband must have suffered all his life, trying to live in a body that wasn’t genuine to who he really is.  He is really a she inside, and having to push that down constantly, and keep that sort of a secret (even from himself) all these years must have been torture.  My mom was contemplating his pain, and then she thought about my sex abuse, and she said “Of course, it’s not trauma though.  You’ve been traumatized.”

I do that too.  I keep comparing my current terrible pain – heartbreak, betrayal, sadness over my failed marriage – to my other terrible pain – experiencing and surviving childhood sexual abuse.  I really shouldn’t compare pains, I suppose, since all pain is real. But maybe it is natural to compare pain, to seek some sort of level for all this, to try and make it familiar?  If Mom is doing it, and I am doing it, maybe everyone is doing it?  Who knows. 

When I find myself thinking “I wish I were dead”, I try to immediately stop that thought where it is, and change it to “I wish this pain would end.”

2 Comments so far
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Hi Butterfly,

Yes I do think that we all compare, usually in a way that makes us think out pain is less and so we deserve less care and compassion, even from ourselves. Comparing can be so painful. Comparing can be away of separating us all from one another.

I agree with you. Pain is pain and it is hard to deal with, no matter what. Then there are added levels of pain.

As much pain as you are going through, you are showing the huge steps in healing you have gone through. Incredible insight that you were able to realize you don’t want to die, but courageously feel what you are feeling, and know that what you want is an end to the pain.

Good and healing thoughts to you.


Comment by kate1975

I’m going to hold a mantra for you ‘May everything work out in the best possible way’. Blessings to you.

Comment by sworddancewarrior

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