The Ring of Hope
When I was twenty-three years old, I worked as a chambermaid in the city hotel, lived in a small poky place above, where not another soul ever entered. It felt like a haunted castle. My wages could not even cover the basic necessities of life and I had a very expensive “past time’, an ED.
I could not go back to my parents; I could not go back to my country. I got ten years prison sentence for leaving illegally. Times were getting worse and worse. The only help was my grandmother’s gold, which I smuggled across the boarder when I was leaving, but my condition required me to sell it piece by piece until I had hardly anything left. The self-harming monster in my head needed more and more.
The only thing I had left was a silver pocket watch. It was a present from my grandfather, who I loved very much. It was an engraved watch from the 19th century. He got it from his father. I always said to myself, "I will never sell this watch"; it was a family treasure, which my granddad wanted me to have to remember him.
Times got hard, money was the biggest problem and hope was shrinking.
The watch was sold.
It was a dull rainy day. I was going back from the shop, where I left my last piece of my reminder of my childhood and people who loved me and cared for me. I sold this precious thing for two notes - the shame hung over me. I sold memories, my values were gone and everything got flushed down the toilet. I did feel that I flushed my soul and my spirit. I could not believe it - what I had done?
What I experienced that day is hard to describe in words, it was not depression, it was total life desperation. It seemed that the only thing I had to do was to figure out what way I would be leaving this place called Earth.
The weather was dreadful and the mood could not have been worse. I was walking, not knowing where, with my head down, not even using an umbrella.
I was soaking. Just when I was going through all my options, I spotted a small shiny object. I looked closer and picked up a beautiful gold ring. I could not believe it. I looked around to see if anybody had lost it but there was nobody anywhere, the town was deserted. I dried the ring, it started to shine and in about five minutes the rain had stopped and the sun came out.
Life changed a lot from that day. I am not walking with my head down anymore, I am now facing the sun and the goodness of life and I am still wearing my ring as a sign of hope and a reminder that there is always a light even in the darkest moment.
Thank you to M for sharing her own personal experience and proving that even in the darkest desperation we can find inspiration.
I wish you all the best first Monday of May - the first Monday of the summer and potentially the first Monday of a journey to living in the light. Remember that there is always a solution and keep holding onto hope for it is a power like no other.
Dare to Live SOS