Why is it precious to be alive
I watch and hear news about children being killed by parents after abuse.
Along with feeling sad and sad, there are always things I think about.
“I think this kid was happy, even though his life was lost when he was young.”
I am a survivor of child abuse.
I grew up being hurt in shreds by violence, words, and attitudes.
Fortunately, I met a good person, got married, and treated my husband's parents' house like a real family.
I went to psychosomatic medicine, and I am proceeding with treatment for my illness while discussing with my teacher that I don't need to be frightened or blame myself anymore.
It's a really happy life when I think about the old days where people lived while being scared and hated.
It's sad, frustrating, and there are things I may not be able to do anymore, but I think I'm happy.
However, when it's painful with flashbacks, etc., there are things I often think about.
“I didn't want to be born into this world even if all of my current happiness turned into a mess.”
Even if you survive being unreasonably oppressed, it's even more unreasonable that you have to do something on your own now that you're an adult.
If you have survived the hardships and still don't feel at ease until you fight, I feel that it would have been better if you didn't have this life at first.
And back to the beginning.
Even if you lose your life as a result of abuse, if you think about the difficult life that lies ahead, I think that would be happier.
Society is ruthless and ununderstanding.
Even if you are not responsible for your mental illness, if you become an adult, you will be responsible for it yourself.
It's a story I often hear about people blaming themselves for not being able to work in the same way as themselves, even if work is delayed because they have a mental illness.
I'm tired of hearing the words “you have to cherish the life you've been given.”
A life I was given without hope, a completely dark future for myself with no hope.
Why is it precious for me to be alive?