My Version of "It Gets Better"

I read and mulled and watched and agonized a couple months ago as many great voices, large and small, shared their inspiring and moving testimonies of “It Gets Better,” as a way of raising awareness and providing encouragement for those who have been, or are being, bullied.

I knew I had things to share and say that would be beneficial. I was bullied as a kid, preyed upon for being fat, poor, smart, shy, awkward, and socially marginalized by my parents’ life choices. I have been bullied as an adult, in the workplace, in marriage, in family relationships. I am glad to say that after nearly 40 years, I finally found my way, and found the courage to draw boundaries, repair the damage, and make myself whole.

It’s not that I don’t have tons to say about what that feels like. Pain is pain, and it hurts. And much like many other things in life, I’ve managed to overcome and conquer. As always, I’d rather focus on the good, rather than the bad.

What kept me from sharing on this topic really comes down to a lack of zeal. I just couldn’t put my finger on some aspect of the matter that I felt truly resonated with me in a way that would translate to something meaningful worth reading. Until today.

A Facebook friend posted a version of this news story on his page about the suicide of Bill Zeller, renowned Princeton computer programmer. Bill took his own life after twenty-some years of unsuccessfully dealing with the aftermath of sexual abuse as a child.

As many of you know, I have long been an advocate for suicide prevention, having lost my mother, a co-worker, and a slew of friends to such tragic ends. I have compassion for those so enshrouded in hopelessness that they find this dark end the only means of ending their suffering. Life is truly rough sometimes. I have endless sympathy for those left behind, who must make sense out of such senseless and enormous loss. Moving on is rough, too.

Something I have not talked or written about much from my own experience is the way sexual abuse in my childhood impacted me. Other than succumbing to thoughts of death, I have experienced much of what Bill Zeller shared in his final missive: the darkness, the self-loathing, the pain, the fear, the isolation, the inability to find courage for real intimacy, the betrayals encountered in the search to repair the damage done.  I can understand how and why a person would want permanent respite from these things.

I have been that person who bore daily physical reminders of such heinous violation. I have struggled to reach out of a darkness from which I sometimes could not justify my own escape. I have self-sabotaged aspects of my life because I was afraid—of what, I’m not sure. I have chosen poorly in nearly every romantic relationship I’ve tried to have, because somehow, latching on to someone I knew would hurt, betray, or otherwise neglect me seemed just dessert for damaged goods. I have hurt other people in my irrational and illogical attempts to keep myself “safe” from further harm, perceived or otherwise.

Thankfully, it does get better.

As I read Bill Zeller’s final words, my heart ached for a young man who never learned to love himself. The greatest spiritual battle we face is being separated from the love that was placed in us by creation. Every religion—Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Taoism, etc.—all speak to the importance of loving one’s self. Biblical scripture says, “loving the Lord your God with all your heart, even as you love yourself.”

I don’t want to get dogmatic or preachy, but those are powerful words. Love. Yourself. No matter what has happened to you in this life, you are a person worth knowing, worth loving, and blessed with a life worth living, and sharing with others. I read somewhere recently, a quote, “You don’t have to go looking for love if it’s where you come from.” Loving yourself is fundamental to sustaining the rest of one’s existence in a healthy, happy way. If you don’t love yourself, how can you believe that others—family, friends, God—love you, too?

For other Bill Zellers out there: You are not alone. Statistically speaking, one of every four females, and one of every seven males you meet on the street has been sexually abused. The things that isolate you are not entirely unique to your own human experience. You are precious, valued, loved. There is confidential help available through mental health professionals, sexual abuse hotlines, online resources.

For the rest of us: Recognize that every person you encounter has struggles in life. Some things that have been engrafted into the hearts of friends and loved ones are this plaguing, this monumental, this difficult for the individual; no matter how they are presenting on the outside. Be a friend. Be a confidante. Recognize the signs and symptoms of the seriously depressed and those predisposed to suicide:

• Ideation (thinking, talking or wishing about suicide)

• Substance use or abuse (increased use or change in substance)

• Puposelessness (no sense of purpose or belonging)

• Anger

• Trapped (feeling like there is no way out)

• Hopelessness (there is nothing to live for, no hope or optimism)

• Withdrawal (from family, friends, work, school, activities, hobbies)

• Anxiety (restlessness, irritability, agitation)

• Recklessness (high risk-taking behavior)

• Mood disturbance (dramatic changes in mood)

• Talking about suicide.

• Looking for ways to die (internet searches for how to commit suicide, looking for guns, pills, etc.)

• Statements about hopelessness, helplessness, or worthlessness.

• Preoccupation with death.

• Suddenly happier, calmer.

• Loss of interest in things one cares about.

• Visiting or calling people one cares about.

• Making arrangements; setting one's affairs in order.

• Giving things away, such as prized possessions.

And may we all remember that there is no problem so great that it cannot be conquered when the job is properly divided among friends.