Message in a digital bottle.
i have this odd urge to write to a lonely boy in a bedsit,
a teenager who doesn’t feel understood,
a man alone because his divorce just came through and it all went wrong and he has no idea why but there is something that nags at his soul,
a rising star who has it all in front of him but there is this empty dark part of his heart that he can’t quite see but he knows it is there.
abuse inhabits. it lurks. it stays unseen,
but we know there is something – it just hasn’t been given a name yet.
a message in a digital bottle … throw it into the waves and who knows which shore it will wash up on … but throw it i must. it is just gnawing away at me, say something, because others don’t say, they just stay silent, and the silence kills us all one by one.
you know, deep down you know something isn’t right. You know something happened and you know you should have said something and you never did. well you are still breathing. It isn’t over. You don’t have to live with it, you can put it down and walk away. You don’t have to do it alone. You can speak to someone.
there are people, and numbers you can dial.
or pick a friend, the one who always cared more than the rest, pick them and ask them first, just ask them.please can I tell you a bad thing and please will you help me.
they will say yes because they love you and loving someone means you don’t walk away.
they just need to have two skills, can they make tea and can they listen? oh and hug, three skills, because you may not realise it at the moment but you will need a hug, maybe more than one,
the thing is, and I am speaking here from a lot of experience, every single person who has ever told me their story, they all have one single thing in common, it was not their fault.
i am willing to put a serious amount of money on the fact that it wasn’t your fault. I am sure of it. Every single one of them thought it was, turns out they were wrong. You will be wrong as well, it’s ok because once you realise that it wasn’t your fault it all starts to get a bit easier.
the idea of it, of speaking about it, probably makes you feel a bit sick and you can’t imagine how you would find the words, but you don’t need to start big. you can start with really small sentences. Something bad happened. Something terrible. When I was 12. Or 6 or whatever age you were.
that is a good start. then you can drink some tea, nibble a biscuit. See if anyone has any questions. try another sentence. it was my teacher. my priest. my scout leader. or some other cliche. another sip of tea that was quite a big sentence.
i would just like you to start rehearsing saying those kind of things. trying the words out in your mouth. seeing if you can form the words. then imagine who you could say them to.
maybe every time it crosses your mind, you feel the shame flood in.
you let it happen.
you joined in.
maybe even suggested things.
doesn’t that make you as bad as them?
thing is, and I am only guessing here, if you were aged 12 or 6 or whatever age you were, would you have known about that? maybe you think you did, but without them leading the way you would never have gone there.
shame is the glue that sticks our lips together and stops us from speaking. when shame is allowed to be amplified and fill every corner with a scream it makes us think we have no power. It drowns out our objections and it screams an echo into our head that nobody is ever going to believe us.
i believe you.
i see you.
i hear you
if you whisper in my ear i will hear your truth. if you show me your demons i will understand your pain. if you speak your truth i will walk with you.
pick up the bottle, uncork the bottle, read the message, break the silence.