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I imagined my funerals hundred times. Every time I decided to end my life, I saw my body, either criminated or cold on a floor, waiting to be washed. They wash your body and cover you in white cloth, then carry you on their shoulders to a piece of land bought on a day or a while back as your resting space. They wear black and cry until you are buried deep enough in a grave, between many other dead bodies.

That was my life before awakening, constant yearning to end it. I attempted suicide twice in my life , once I was 15 years old and after another long abusive argument with my parents, I went to my room and drank all chemical samples from my little lab. After 10 minutes I felt so much fear, that I went and told them. I was rushed into hospital and after pumping my stomach and making sure this body stays alive, we came back. They never asked me why! They hide all knifes from our kitchen and whispers became a way of talk about me. My parent refused to read any of my journals which I offered with a hopeful heart for connect, to be heard.

I know the edge of death, the anger and wish to end the pain, I am one of rear kinds, the survivals. The one became so alone, so different, that only God could reach them, could save them from their own thoughts.

I am 51 years old and until early forties, I had many nights that I sat with bottles of pills, or a shape knife to end my life. I even considered throwing myself in front of London’s tube. Death became close, my only refuge was the comfort of my choice in ending my life. Darkness was my companion, the thirst to be recognized, valued, heard. I travelled around the world, to find someone who could have endured me. I know the ache in human bones so well, this cry for a sense of belonging, when no one is there to hear you. I lived in that wasteland, the sky was always grey and my only shelter was writing.

The second suicide attempt was after a rape, I even refused to believe it was a rape. Like many women, I blamed myself and kept it quiet. I was in USA at the time, young and immature. I never spoke about it, even now, I find it so difficult to remember what exactly happened. I just felt so bad that I finished a bottle of sleeping pills and a friend took me to hospital. Most of life, I made destructive choices, by even having people in my life who in their eyes I was worthless include my birth family.

I kept creating scenarios and dramas unconsciously which were the proof of my unworthiness, unlovingness. How can one came back from such a dark place? I was not depress, I was suicidal all the time. It was a violence and rage inside me, trapped into my body, and the only way I could feel or connect with life was the moment, I wanted to end it. Only surviving is for today, because it was no love, no desire, no one cared, I could not care less for my own existence.

When one walk long and alone in dark, it will be impossible to fall out of mind tantrums, unless grace of God somehow saves you.

It was the beginning of 2007 that I no longer balance anything my life, from work to relationships. From finance to loneliness. I spend most of my weekends on a kitchen floor, sobbing and asking Divine to save me from suffering in my heart.

I am not sure, how I was touched by divine’s grace. Suddenly, everything fall apart,  I lost everyone and everything in a period of six months, I was left with few suitcases and constant desire to end my life.

The story is long and I am about to start writing a book of whatever I experienced and took me to unknown frontiers of awakening journey and still continues.

Today, I know the only death was required, was the ending of Ego. What I feel today is freedom, to be who I am and on my way to this mazing inner space, I had no choice to let go of people who does not support my process of grow and expansion. The journey is unpredictable and we all begin at some point returning to our essence and true heart centre.

Pain carves our heart, people like me whom most of their lives spent in dark and shadows, they come to such a peace that nothing can change it anymore. They find the source of their belonging rests in them. They become spontaneous, intimate, open and light like a breath. From the place of our wounds, light spreads.

We are the bravehearts of the earth, the surviving children of love. We carried our cross centuries, not knowing we are the flowers of God. Ocean, seas and rivers whispers our songs.

The rest is a let go, flow is our home. Willingness to bend in storm, expand under the sun, share with apple trees, knowing everything dies and choosing to surrender to “now”.

Yes, I kissed the lips of sun and death,

I buried my pain and healed my wounds.

I washed my heart with truth and lost myself in flight into my heart.

 I know death and I choose life. Now and forever.

Serena Devi

 

 

 

 

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