Her life was so fulfilling and worth living. A survivor child, that was offered a second chance. A father that come back to find her, tooking the risk of being stuck in the wrong place for the rest of his life. A stepmother that was able to took care of her after her father died. The chance of going to university and getting a good job she loved, shortly after finishing the studies. The outstanding intellectual friends she was surrounded by and all the interesting projects she was involved in. The appreciation she got despite all the historical vicissitudes and random political allegiances. The gratitude for all those people that she helped during those hard years, no matter what they believe in. Her small family and her children. The chance of not being left alone of her second marriage with someone that was dedicated to the family.
Was it enough? Was it worth living? Definitely yes. But this was only what we, all of us around her, we thought it is enough.
Actually, it was rather the opposite of happiness she was feeling every moment of her life. It was that unhappiness worm that was eating her every day and the energy. Every single day added to her life meant that the wall between she and us, the rest of the world, was getting a stone bigger. Until she was completely consumated by it. Alone, as she thought she deserved to be.
We, I especially, we tried to understand what was going on. What the fault was. How we can change her. Trying to show her we are happy to be part of her life. Until we didn´t. Until we felt rejected and neglected and isolated and we hated her. We just run away, as far as possible because we were afraid her sadness is like a virus that if it is not already into our genes, it might be highly contagious.
Despite our hardest efforts to escape her prison, we were the prisoners of her unhappy world as well. Long after her death, we were still not free. We were caught into the maze of confusion and lack of clarity between what we are entitled to enjoy and the danger that unhappiness is our destiny. That no matter what we are condemned to sink into the same abysmal vortex of nothingness. That our relationships, professional achievements and small daily successes will be taken away from us because we are made of an unhappy clay.
The worse of it was when one or two of us ended up in relationships with people that wanted the same help she was not able to get. Subconsciously we were looking for partners that were fighting the same darkness. This time, we were assuming, we will save that person. We know what we should do, this time, and our debt to life is finally paid.
This video from Amudim, a Jewish organisation aimed to help individuals going through hard times that are not easily described through words - from sexual abuse to mental health issues - was my trigger. How I wished such chances existed back in the days when my mother (z´l) was fighting her battle. Hopefully, there will be more people that will get the right help in the right time. Before their lives and the lives of those who love them will be wasted. Life is worth living in dignity but it is not always easy to find that strength to trust and love yourself. It is rarely impossible to find yourself and the reasons to love you alone, thus the need of reaching out - discretely if needed - to professionals familiar with the specific contexts and individual needs. Screaming for help is not a shame. Getting the help to stay alive, you and your family and those who love you.
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