The silent battlefield

Dear readers,

I’m taking the risk of sharing this post. I know I may get flack for it. For those of you that are in the same boat as myself, you will understand my pain. As for the rest, I’m humbly offering my blessing that you should never know of the pain I’m talking about.

I have been sick with the coronavirus for over two weeks. I was extremely weak and fatigued. I couldn’t stand up without getting lightheaded and would get out of breath while doing the slightest physical work. Simply going up the stairs would tire me out. I felt more dead than alive. I slept a lot and although I was feeling very unwell physically, the emotional noise in my brain was relatively quiet. I had a sense of inner peace which I didn’t appreciate until I lost it. To be honest, there was a part of me that was okay with being sick and having the possibility of it ending up the way so many others unfortunately ended.

Two days ago, I started physically feeling better. I had more strength and was able to get out of bed. I was able to function properly. My family was relieved that I was back up and running to some degree.

What came next, hit me like a bomb. It was a surprise attack which I had no prior notice of. All the emotional noise in my head which had been quiet while I was physically sick, completely overtook me, with a vengeance. It was as though I had an emotional dam, holding back all my emotions. Somehow my brain kept it secure while struggling with the symptoms of corona. I’m assuming that because I was sleeping so much, I didn’t have the time or brain space to feel emotions.

When the dam broke, I was flooded with pain I haven’t experienced in a long time. The emotional pain I’ve been experiencing over the last few days is so much more powerful and painful than the physical pain of the virus. If I would be given a choice to go through the virus again, and have another week or two respite from the emotional noise that overtook me, I would choose the virus without thinking twice. Physical pain is a walk in the park in comparison to emotional pain.

Yes, I have seen severe physical illness up close. I have watched a member of my family suffer from a dreaded illness. I have watched all the pain. I’ve watched the suffering and have also watched his death. I’ve experienced the grief of losing someone closest to me. I’ve experienced a funeral. It was heartbreaking beyond words. It broke my heart into a million pieces and there are pieces of my heart which will never recover from the loss of my closets sibling.

However, with all this, I say with confidence that emotional illness from years of trauma and abuse is more difficult. It causes paralyzing pain. A broken spirit and soul is painful beyond words. It’s heartbreak on a whole new level.

I’ve been groping through pure darkness, desperately trying to find a way out of this living hell. The darkness is so thick, I can feel it. Every time I seem to near the door, I stumble on something and need to stand up and try again.

I’ve been thinking, what is it that I can take out of this emotional flashback? What can I learn from this? What lesson can I share with others? I know this will pass as it has passed many times in the past. This is not my first emotional flashback and although this one seems so dark, I know from previous ones that they pass. However, I would still love to take something from this.

Thinking some more, I’ve come to realize what complete warriors we are. We struggle to get up in the morning, yet we do it anyway. We struggle to go to work, yet we do it anyway. We struggle to go into social situations, yet we do it anyway. We struggle with a religion with God, yet we all have our very own unique language with him. We don’t have the generic one that everyone else uses, rather we have our own personal and intimate way of talking to God.

We struggle with many different attempts. On the lower end, we struggle with attempts to stop working on ourselves and simply continue our ways of dysfunctional behaviors and coping skills. It’s so much easier to do that, than to reconstruct ourselves from scratch. Yet we continue to forge ahead and work on ourselves on a daily basis.

On a higher level, some of us struggle with the attempt to end our pain and suffering. It’s so much easier to die once than to die everyday again. Yet, we continue to fight everyday. We continue to live our lives despite all our pain.

My dear readers, I ask you of a favor. Next time you look in the mirror, please know that you are looking at a fearless soldier. A soldier who fights and wins every day. A soldier who faces battles all alone, in the quiet battlefield of their minds and yet he or she wins without any backup. A soldier who’s been hit many times, in fact too many to count, yet this soldier continues fighting with all his might.

Please be proud and stand strong. Please know that you are a hero. Although no one else besides for a mere few, hear the thunderous sounds of the battlefield, I hear it and God hears it. Please know that although we don’t understand and we will never understand the ways of God, He is beaming with pride at the amount of battles you’ve one. Please know that although it seems like God is not watching and protecting you, I promise with my heart and soul, He is watching every move you make. He is a proud and happy general, because YOU make him proud every single day. And finally please know that the same God who created darkness, also created light. I pray for you that God should see your darkness and bring light into your life!

One thought on “The silent battlefield

  1. you did it again! you never fail to inspire and uplift me. i cried when i read your post. i feel..alive. “We don’t have the generic one that everyone else uses, rather we have our own personal and intimate way of talking to God.” you get it.


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