What is it that we are all living for? – A Personal Story

Have you ever spent day by day, wondering why? The answer has been explained in depth inside other posts…Self-Realisation. The experience of cosmic oneness that absorbs the experiencer and the experienced into itself.

Beyond that, what the fuck are we doing?

I dont know about you but I…well…I am perhaps the worst excuse of a human being. After so many years of doing what was expected, I ventured out on my own at the ripe age of 14…still conditioned to do what is necessary to survive in a hostile environment. Friendship was never a concept that was in the cards for me, neither were healthy relationships. After years of abuse, my stench of desperation pretty much drove everyone away.

Recently, I’ve felt a sense of hope, which reawakened dreams that perished long ago. Perhaps, things can change for the better after all. Perhaps, I’m just another deluded woman, seeking true partnership instead oneupmanship. No matter what I am, I choose to live my life speaking my mind freely.

For this reason, I am sharing something deeply personal with you. It goes beyond the spiritual concepts, we strive for but can never make a utopian reality. We, as people, have strayed so far from our path…Social segregation has driven us to the brink of insanity followed by imminent genocide. When to know this is going on in the world means to be politically incorrect, what happens to the truth? It becomes the first casualty of a world war that is inbound.

I could never wrap my head around the sense behind it all. By the age of 15, I had lost everything. My home. My family. Any possible support network I could have had to process these losses with assistance…As time kept passing by the second, I felt as though the ground had shattered under my feet. Safety revealed itself to be an illusion maintained by the tallest thug in the room with the fighting experience to back his play and control the crowd.

For what it’s worth, I did not desist. I worked hard, read every book under the sun and began my journey into adulthood with little success. At a young age, I already took responsibility for people two or three times my age…and after nearly 15 years, several questions arose. Will it always be this way? Will anyone ever take care of me? Why am I still here, when I’m just living on borrowed time?

After I had been raped the first time, I told no one. Still haven’t. The responses from those I spoke to about an attempted rape at 14 were lacking more than merely compassion…so I learnt to keep stumm. Before that incident, I thought it could not get any worse. I had suffered the unspeakable at the hands of friends and stranger to the point I ceased to trust. However, I least expected it, I fell in love. Initially, I fell back on my original conditioning…to please at any cost…but then he got me to trust him. Things were looking up for the first time in over 6 years…until one night, when he returned home drunk out of his mind. After the second time by another person, it seemed less painful…less important. I wanted to tell, but I was numb, pretending to enjoy the level of intimacy demanded from me. Personally, I thought that would never change.

The want for the pain to end is the primary cause behind all suicide. Nobody wants to die, but death is preferable over suffering. How do I know? During a dark night at 14, my mother had gone to bed. Again, I could not sleep. At that time, I had become accustomed to crying myself to sleep after extreme arguments that would last hours every day and would sometimes end in violence. I never hit back. I couldn’t, so I began to self-harm. In the end, it was a cycle of hurting myself for being hurt…until I tried to run away twice. When that didn’t work, I hoarded enough pills or what I thought was enough. After 10 years in the medical industry, I know better now, but then, I just couldn’t wait any longer. I was so desperate for the pain to end, I took the chance without a backup solution. Statistically, the more lethal the means of suicide, the more successful they are.

For what it is worth, I am fortunate it did not succeed. I was lucky to survive to process what drove me to such measures. Moreover, I survived worse after without resorting to further attempts.

Life is a whirlwind of experience. I would not wish for it to be any other way. Without the bad days, how could there be the good? We must never give up on ourselves or others. It is our solemn duty to squeeze the most out of life, just not at the expense of others. Be kind to those who’ve known to little kindness. Be bold to those who overstep their mark at the expense of others…and love unconditionally for the fucking hell of it.

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