Although I very rarely go to church, Easter has a great deal of meaning to me. I find the symbolism of it gives my life some meaning.
This year I think as I feel myself change, and maybe give myself back my life – I can slowly understand is not just about death, but at last I can see the hope.
For most of my life, I only understood Good Friday, that made sense to me.
Why have you forsaken me. Why am I and so many like me abandoned to hell.
There was never any answers, only endless pain and confusion.
Why abandon girls to rape, mental abuse and terror.
Why be abandon to the hell of prostitution.
Why be abandon as others refuse to see the injuries and the despair in the eyes.
I asked, I screamed, I whispered, I begged, I cried – I never had any answer.
All I got was stony silence.
So I buried any questioning.
I gave up hope. Hope was too dangerous.
But I don’t why or how, but hope never give up on me.
Hope refuse to let me die, after bottles of pills mixed with vodka. Refuse to let fast trains comes as I imagined throwing myself under them. Making knives blunt as I cut myself.
Hope save me, when I could of kill it for doing that.
Hope refuse to let me have too many STDs . Hope took care of my body when I could not give a damn.
Hope buried my pregnancies, stopping my tears, hiding away my fear.
Hope wept for me. Hope took my pain and save it until I was safe enough to feel.
I see the weeping at Easter, and now I feel cry too.
Weep as hope cannot disappear, it just leaves the room.
I scream now as my voice know I have a life now. I would say I was dead too much of my life.
Now through massive struggle, through terror, through utter aloneness – I am somehow alive now.
I live to speak my truth. I live to know that I feel joy, feel the pain I had to numbed out, feel tears, feel laughter, feel despair – I live because I am somehow alive.
I live to record what it was to be prostituted, what was to be abandoned, what it was to inside child rape, what it was to made into living porn – I live because I am somehow alive.
I am not reborn, I would never be so dismissive of how my past made what I am and what I will be in the future.
But I am able to breathe in the air without terror. I am able to see birds, trees and architecture without wanting to protect myself from any reality.
I am alive.
Those three simple words were so difficult for me to get to.
Now I can celebrate Easter Sunday, by biting the head off a chocolate rabbit, by watching Judy Garland, by finding football, by having a chicken meal. Simple things but unthinkable for large parts of my existence.
I may not go to church, I may be confused by what I believe – but I know Easter is inside my heart.