Survival

I was thinking about the word survival and all the unspoken baggage that word entails. In my own lifetime I have "survived" a rich assortment of ugly things: alcoholic parents, child molestation, divorce—my parents' and my own, rape, suicide attempts, (um yes, that's plural), car wrecks, abuse, betrayal, the World Trade Center attack. And these are only the things I know about… how many other near-misses have I breezed through with no indication whatsoever?

Given similar circumstances, what makes one person survive more emotionally intact than another? Why will one rise from her ashes fighting mad, another cringing in fear? Once betrayed, some never trust again, while others go on to be eternally vulnerable.

Is it the gene pool or the luck of the draw? Is it a pact we made with God before we were born to learn something as yet unexplored? I am one of the lucky ones. At this point in my life nobody's out to get me, I have people who love me, any major physical problems have been patched up with medications, and I wake up each day wanting to live. There were times when this wasn't true, sure. (which may explain those suicide attempts) But that was then, this is now.

Survivorship places unspoken responsibilities on the one surviving: if you survive trying to kill yourself you have to ask why. Was I crying for attention? Was my attempt just a major botch job? Or… was there a saving intervention from some outside source (yes, I mean God). If I answer yes to that, it only leads to more questions. Good questions. Questions that help me survive the next ugly thing to come along.

Overcoming the bad things that happen to me is one thing. I can feel pretty smug about myself. Living when someone else dies is another. Now the questions require way more thoughtful answers: Since I don't deserve the gift of time, didn't earn it, can't pay for it, what can I do to make it worthwhile? For me, big questions sometimes need small answers… one small answer at a time. Every new day gives me another chance to make good on the gift. Some days I can.