Not Alone

You've got your scars and you've got your birthmarks ...
You've got your secrets, you've got your regrets
Darling we all do.
 - from the song Betty, by Brooke Fraser

 
    I have long been a fan of the organization To Write Love On Her Arms, an outreach for people suffering from depression, addiction, self-harm and thoughts of suicide. Recently I reread the story on TWLOHA's website* of how it all began. I read about a girl named Renee who had suffered terrible things and reacted by doing terrible things to herself. Yet, though she took a razor blade to her arm and carved profanities in her flesh, she was still able to sing along to her favorite song, and to speak about hope among the stars. A miracle. Somehow, I felt connected to this girl whose past is like a novel written in blood and slashed with a knife. I felt connected to her even though my own past is fairly neatly bound. Maybe it's because even though I haven't felt her pain I know something of sadness and can feel for her, and because even in her sadness she can speak of hope, and in that way we have common ground.

   There have been times when I believe that I have cried other people's tears. Someone else's sadness has poured over me and allowed them to be strong in a moment when they needed it, while I am weeping in a quiet place. Maybe this is not so but I feel that it is. Nearly everything is universal: pain, loss, heartache, joy, love, hope, faith. It connects us, binds us. It is easy to become wrapped up in the shroud of our own selves but when we peak through the mist and reach out to someone else something wonderful happens. We find commonality. Community. We find that we are not alone.


*http://www.twloha.com/vision/story/