In a conversation earlier I told someone that boarding the lift at work yesterday morning was the scariest moment in my life.
On reflection, this is probably incorrect. I was for a few brief moments in Washington D.C. convinced we had lost William at the Jefferson memorial. He simply vanished, and I experienced a new kind of terror. The only meaning in my life in those moments was finding our Son.
An image of Will sinking into the vast expanse of semi frozen water around the site popped into my head. I was plunged into despair. The onset of crippling fear was instant and relentless. Jane and I sprinted in opposite directions around the fairly expansive monument. I ran past a couple of guards, who I probably should have engaged, but I was far to busy to stop.
In reality it didn’t take long to find Will. He was sauntering round the perimeter wall, oblivious to the blind terror we were experiencing. The despair turned rapidly to relief and then joy. We have laughed about that moment many times since, but the fear is still palpable.
I have lived with despair for along time. Suppressing a deeply hidden truth in favour of an arguably easier existence. I have had times recently, when I seriously considered the value of my life. I saw only failure and pain in my future, and saw no reason to prolong the intense sensation of misery.
But despair it seems has transformative powers.
Nietzsche famously told us “That which does not kill us, makes us stronger.” He was not alone in that view. Many great thinkers extol the virtue of a healthy dose of suffering.
I have been greatly inspired by the concept from Sartre, that “Life begins beyond despair…”
There is a good deal more going on in that statement than I will cover here. But simply put, the powerful message is, that when you define for yourself your reality, then you can really start to live.
By the time I emerged from the lift, the sensation of despair was lifting. My presence in the office, presenting in the manner of my choosing was a giant step away from the constraints of hateful Dogma. Living my life, in the way I defined it, outside of what society told me was acceptable.
As I said in the short, speech I delivered to the colleagues that had gathered in the office to welcome me. “My presence in the office as Suzanne did not mark the completion of my journey. It was just the conclusion of the first step.”
The despair continues to recede and it seems that Life has begun….
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