It's been a cloudy, dark week for my mental space. I've been sitting all weekend feeling pretty awful and lousy about everything, doing anything to be productive with the feelings. I dunno if this will resonate, but I've been feeling compelled to share it so if this finds you, I hope you don't empathize with it. And, if you do, I hope you do find comfort knowing you aren't alone while not always feeling okay.
TW: Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts
When I first met my sickness, I never bothered to introduce myself.
When it started to infect my brain, I still did not know it’s name.
When I finally learned its name, I was so afraid to speak the damage it had already caused into existent.
There was one day, when the symptoms were at their worst; I wondered how far down the hole goes. So, I dragged my feet, stepping up to the edge, staring into the darkness that was this endless void. As my toes edged closer; my fever broke and a moment of lucidity fell on me, so I managed to turn away and crawl back out of the darkness.
My biggest fear used to be hearing that someone took their own life and hearing in my mind, in my heart, a whisper say “I understand”. That understanding feels like a rock in my chest, like concrete pouring straight into my stomach turning my insides. And I only hope that this nausea will keep my feet anchored below me, so I don’t one day find myself strolling too far down memory lane. Wondering, once more, how far down the black hole goes and if the bottom is really the answer.
