My Choice To Live
If you had asked my younger self to sit down and list her reasons to be cheerful, I have to be honest, she would have really struggled.
Whilst pure joy oozed from the core of my being and I was often described as a happy child, the excruciating pain and darkness of a childhood of years emotional, physical, sexual and mental abuse took even my joyous self to the very edge.
It is no surprise that by the time I hit my early 20s, I was done. On the outside it looked as if I was well on my way to having it all; the house, the business, the family, the lifestyle etc, but on the inside I had checked out. So much so that one morning, I found myself on the side of a bridge, with my baby in my arms, ready to jump.
Some say I was suffering from post-natal depression. Others say it was post traumatic stress disorder. All I know is it that I felt numbed out, checked out and was definitely on my way out. As far as I was concerned, the world was cruel, so cruel it felt unkind to leave my son in it without me, and I was tired, tired of fighting for my life, tired of trying to find reasons and ways to keep choosing life.
Today, I can’t believe how different things are. Life still has its ups and downs and isn’t always easy, but as I walk along my local beach, reflecting on how much has changed, especially in the midst of Covid -19 and the uncertainty and fear so many of us are facing, I feel blessed.
Yes, I can feel the waves of suffering, and yes I am very alive to the reality of the divided and unjust world we live in, constantly reminded of those that have and those that do not; those that yield their power and those that are stripped of all power.
However, as I bend over to pick up bits of plastic and others objects I can’t bear to watch get carried back into the clear blue waters, I pause to enjoy the sand in my toes, the wind through my hair, the sun on my face and the salty sea on my lips, I smile the biggest smile and let out the occasional laugh, just because.
My lists of reasons to be joyful are endless.
My son is alive, enjoying a full and healthy student life; continuously broke, stressing to meet essay deadlines, and enjoying his new circle of friends. As for me, I choose to live, no matter how messy or what that brings. The privilege and gift to be able to consciously live out that choice continues to take my breath away.
Mary Daniels
Writer, storyteller, coach and wild woman