Am I Going to Make It Through This Year, answered by Radegund
I used to feel like a badass. Now I feel defeated. My parents died this year, first my Mom, then my Dad a few months after. Mom’s was expected, but still hard. My Dad’s came out of nowhere. My relationship was on the rocks before this and he finally left as soon as he decently could. My job sucks. I keep playing the song “I Am Gonna Make It Through This Year”, but I truly don’t know how.
Am I Going To Make It Through This Year?
Dear Am I Going To Make It,
I’m sorry for your many losses. That you feel beaten down by this is not a measure of being weak, but of being human. Please seek help from someone with experience in recovering from grief. For me, it was my confessor. I could go to him to work through my pain and rage and say to him the ugliest things I would never admit to anyone else. If you don’t have a confessor you trust, please seek out a therapist or a grief counseling group. A badass doesn’t limp around on a broken leg, but makes sure she heals to be able to fight again. You need to give yourself time to heal to get back to being a badass – and not make your wounds worse by judging yourself for needing healing.
I was born the daughter of the king of Thuringia. My entire family was killed and my country conquered by the Frankish king Clothair. He “married” me to keep me as a hostage against my people and my only surviving brother. It was not until my brother was dead and my people well and truly pacified that he let me retire to a nunnery. A Frankish nunnery where he could still keep an eye on me.
I was raised surrounded by family and clan to be the wife of a leader. Nothing in my upbringing or experience prepared me to be totally alone, surrounded by my enemies. All of the privileges I was born with were stripped down to what I carried inside my spirit. I wrote. I wrote passionate letters to anyone I thought would be sympathetic, telling them vividly of my plight and that of my people. Some might call them poetry, but it was poetry with a purpose. I had only my voice against the military might of the Frankish king, but I used it. I even wrote a letter to my brother, though I knew he was forever lost to me. I poured all the pain of our family into fragile parchment, but somehow it survived. Clothair’s kingdom is dust, but my words still ring out.
I can tell you of a rebellion I inspired, the hagiographies written about me, the churches dedicated for me and Jesus College in Cambridge of which I am a patron saint. But all of that came after my darkest time. What I want you to know is what I discovered: even if everything is stripped away, and all you have left is yourself, you are powerful beyond measure. You will make it through this year and all the years to come. If all you have left is your voice, let it ring with the sheer weight of your experience. You will be heard and the world will shift, even if you never see the movement.
Radegund of Thuringia