So I’m reading Tell the Wolves I’m Home and the main character wonders, “how many small good things in the world might be resting on the shoulders of something terrible?” I got to thinking about this.
A while back, spending time with family, I kept thinking, “what’s the purpose of this life. There’s no purpose, it’s just effort to not be sad, effort to deal, effort, effort, and all for nothing.” I knew I needed perspective, but I didn’t know where to get it. I wish that I had the kind of family that brings one solace, instead of the kind that sends one searching for solace. Alas. Now that I’m reading about the Wolves ( I still haven’t quite figured out the title, but doesn’t it maybe suggest a solace-less family?), I wonder how many good things rest on the shoulders of my solace-less family of origin?How many good things rest on the traumas that I wish had never occurred? Who would I be if I had not fought like hell for my little piece of solace–?
Well, I wouldn’t have met many of my best friends through my incest survivors group. I wouldn’t have helped many of my students find the therapy or solace they needed when their families were making them wish for death. I wouldn’t be as wise as I am (although this wisdom is off and on, as I can tell from my thoughts when I’m with my family of origin). I wouldn’t appreciate the good days as much as I do. I wouldn’t have had to spend so much time in therapy. I wouldn’t have waited until I found the perfect husband (lack of trust kept me single for a long time, and now I have fh [fabulous husband]). I know there are a ton more small things…and it’s funny to think they “rest” on this “solace-lessness.” For rest is a kind of solace, no? So there you have it.