How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend, some hurts that go too deep, …that have taken hold. — Frodo Baggins, The Lord of The Rings: The Return of The King.
My mother once told me that trauma is like The Lord of The Rings. You go through this crazy, life-altering thing that almost kills you (like, say, having to drop the One Ring into Mount Doom), and that thing by definition cannot possibly be understood by someone who hasn’t gone through it. They can sympathise, sure, but they’ll never really know, and more than likely they’ll expect you to move on from the thing fairly quickly. And they can’t be blamed; people are just like that, but that’s not how it works.
Some lucky people are like Sam. They can go straight home, get married, have a whole bunch of curly-headed Hobbit babies and pick up their gardening right where they left off, content to forget the whole thing and live out their days in peace. Lots of people, however, are like Frodo, and they don’t come home the same person they were when they left, and everything is more horrible and more hard than it ever was before. The old wounds sting and the ghost of the weight of the One Ring still weighs heavy on their minds, and they don’t fit in at home anymore, so they get on boats, and go sailing away to the Undying West to look for the sort of peace that can only come from within. Frodos can’t cope, and most of us are Frodos when we start out.
But if we move past the urge to hide or lash out, my mother always told me, we can become Pippin and Merry. They never ignored what had happened to them, but they were malleable and receptive to change. They became civic leaders and great storytellers; they were able to turn all that fear and anger and grief into narratives that others could delight in and learn from, and they used the skills they had learned in battle to protect their homeland. They were fortified by what had happened to them, they wore it like armour and used it to their advantage.
It is our trauma that turns us into guardians, my mother told me. It is suffering that strengthens our skin and softens our hearts, and if we learn to live with the ghosts of what has been done to us, we just may be able to save others from the same fate. — Sarah Taylor Gibson.
I’M DYING BECAUSE I JUST IMAGINED WEISS GETTING 6-INCH HEEL SHOES FOR HER DANCE WITH NEPTUNE JUST SO THAT THEY CAN DANCE TOGETHER SOMEWHAT PROPERLY BECAUSE NEPTUNE IS A FUCKIGN GIANT AND WEISS IS SO SHORT