I remember back to a time when I was 15 years old at my grandparent’s farm.
At the side of one of their fields, I sat shivering on a frost-covered, cold stone, dyke wall, my body aching like I was being stabbed with a thousand tiny sharp knives.
Whilst I loved being amongst their many animals and outside in nature, there was little that could lift my mood and the feelings of despair that engulfed me.
I had already suffered from endometriosis pain for several years by this age and it felt it was too much to handle.
Each month I cried and grabbed my abdomen, fearing I would die.
Almost wishing I could die sometimes if only to escape the pain.
I was down.
I was sad.
And I felt alone.
My parents had their own challenges, and sadly, my mother saw me as this hindrance, a form of competition and a threat so I never received the love, affection or sense of safety from her I needed.
A daughter only really and truly seeks the love, adoration and encouragement from her mother.
How else is a daughter to learn but from her mother on how to navigate the human jungle with all its perplexities, predators and poisons?
But back to the wall…
Whilst I was there, my uncle, (who had previously made many uncomfortable and unwanted advances on me as I grew older), took the photograph without my knowledge.
And the picture says it all.
The misery in my face and sadness in my eyes is evident for all to see.
The deep pain and forlornness of my life weighed heavily upon my chest and I was trapped.
I was immersed in physical pain.
I was drowning in emotional pain.
I was suffocating in the deep dark well of the darkness of aloneness.