“We delight in the beauty of the butterfly but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.” Maya Angelou

For a long time anger has been a part of my life. I have felt angry with a lot of people, including many of those I love. I have felt angry with circumstances beyond my control. I have felt angry with myself. My reasons for feeling anger have always felt justified to me. But, I have come to understand that my anger has not always been to my benefit. In some ways, and in some places along this journey, it has driven me forward. Pushed me along the path. Kept me moving. But in other ways it has proven to be a major distraction. It has hampered my healing. It has filled my body with toxins when I needed pureness. It has allowed me to look at others instead of myself.

I believe that anger is an integral part of the healing process. I think it is normal to feel it after going through a traumatic experience. I think in many ways it can be a healthy emotion. It is a part of us, so I suppose that means it is necessary. But, there comes a time when we have to let that anger go. Not even just to release those we hold there with us, in that place. But also to release ourselves. To show understanding and compassion instead of judgement. To accept that not everyone knows how to act perfectly in the face of trauma. That because someone does not reach out a hand, does not mean they do not want to. Maybe they don’t know how. Maybe fear is driving them away from us. Maybe they don’t know what to say. Maybe they think someone else is holding our hands. Maybe they are struggling in their own lives. Maybe we are damaging to them. Or maybe, in the worse case scenario, they simply don’t care.

But truly, does judging help anyone? Of course, judgment is always there. At our disposal. To use against those we feel have caused us pain. Those who we feel have wronged us. To look down upon others, when we ourselves are feeling low. It is true. Life after the accident was hard for us. We needed people around us in a very real way. We felt the most alone we had ever felt. The most vulnerable. Fragile. Afraid. Lost in the chaos that often follows in trauma’s wake. And, in all honesty I felt angry that we were there. Stuck. Fighting to survive. I felt angry that those I needed most were not always there. That those I needed most seemed not to care. I have carried this anger with me for a very long time. For years. Sure my self-righteous indignation may have felt valid to me. But it did not help me to heal. It was detrimental to my healing. It kept me stuck. It pushed people who may have otherwise been by my side. Away.

I was talking to Chris the other day, and he asked me, “Did we ask for help? Did we show those who could help us we needed it?” I responded along these lines, “I’m not really sure, but the ironic thing about life after trauma is that it is so scary. We feel if we tell people how afraid we are, they might judge us. They might think we have lost our minds. They might think we are too far gone. So, in the moments we need help most. Well, those are the times we build the highest walls. That is when we build a fortress around us.”

Why? Because being afraid is not the only thing we are battling. We also feel a fragility we are not used to feeling. A vulnerability that feels out of control. So, we hunker down, and we try to weather the storm. We don’t ask for help. Instead we pretend, to the best of our abilities, that we are okay. All the while hoping that someone will see through our facade. That someone won’t believe us when we say we are fine. That someone will see behind the masks we have placed upon our faces. That someone will recognize that we are in danger of drowning. Someone will see. Someone will help.

I am not sure what the answer is. But I have learned, going through what we have gone through, that there is a huge gaping hole when it comes to support after trauma. In this gaping hole toxins grow. Anxiety and fear. Anger and pain. Ambivalence and denial. Isolation. It is not a nice place to live. It is a certain kind of hell. No one deserves that place. It is dark and it is scary, and nobody can survive there forever.

So, for me, it is time to try and let go of the anger and the blaming. I have to come to a place where I understand that humans are imperfect. That does not necessarily make them bad. When we are coming from a place of fear it can be difficult to be kind and empathetic. When every button is being pushed it can be difficult not to blame those we love for not helping. For not providing us with some relief. I do not know what this means moving forwards for me. For us. For this whole family. But I do know we have been alone for far too long. I have come to understand that pushing people away damages us more than it damages them. Though anger is sometimes healthy. As it can help us to build boundaries. Help protect us from further pain when we are already dealing with more than we can handle. It is not a place in which we are meant to dwell forever. Our bodies and our minds cannot sustain it. It will make us ill if we allow it to stay in our bodies for too long. It will destroy us if we cannot learn how to let it go.

We have been through too much to allow that. To be destroyed by this just because we have grown accustomed to it. We have been on this journey too long. We have survived in a world that not everyone makes it through. We have fought our battles. We have faced our fears. In so many ways, we are better people than we were going into the accident. I can no longer allow anger to block out the sun. We cannot live in the shadow of this trauma for the rest of our lives. If we do, it will poison our present. Destroy our future. All of our triumphs and joys will be tainted by that which we cannot let go of. So, it is time to start writing a new story. To change the story line. To retire what needs to be retired. To be thankful for the protection that anger once afforded us. But let go with intention. Learning to bask in the sunlight where a shadow once lay.