This was the post I made to my Facebook account last Friday. I feel it deserves to be on my blog as well, so here it is. I have left it unaltered, another coffee stained page folded and tucked away for safe keeping.
Fair warning. This post is not for the faint of heart. I’m not writing this for sympathy or empathy. I’m not writing this for myself. This isn’t a cry for help, and I honestly don’t want comments on it.
This post is meant for very specific people. They will know who they are. I don’t want their message tarnished with comments aimed at me. This isn’t for me. This is for them, because they’re worth it and deserve to know that.
These past four-ish months have been extremely hard for me. To the point that there have been two instances where I seriously contemplated suicide because things became so dark, cold, and hopeless that I honestly didn’t know how I could wake up the next day. I didn’t know how I could walk out to my car, drive to work, sit for four hours pretending that I was ok when inside the only thing I could think of was how much I hurt. How the only thing in the world I wanted was for that pain to end in whatever way that meant.
I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want to keep going. Breathing, something which should be an unconscious action, took so much energy that it didn’t feel worth it. It would be so much easier to just not wake up.
I’m not writing this for people to think I need intervention. I don’t need help. I don’t need to be put into a padded cell and watched over.
What I need is for the other people, the ones who are quiet and wondering themselves how they’re going to keep going on, wondering how they’re going to keep breathing, to know that it is worth it. It’s worth the struggle.
There are people out there who care and love you and understand the pain you feel inside. The pain that feels as if you are bleeding out even though there’s no physical wound. There are people who understand how sometimes the thoughts of self-harm are all consuming because the hurt is so intense there becomes a compulsive need to manifest that pain.
I am not the only person to have experienced these emotions. I am not alone. I am not the only person to feel sadness, hopelessness, despair, and depression, even though during those horribly long, lonely hours the only thing I could think of was that I was alone.
But I’m not alone. And neither are you.
I want to reach out, publicly, and let anyone fighting their own fight to know that it’s ok. That it will be ok. The journey right now might seriously suck, and it might seem like the darkness will never end. But I promise it will. Sunlight does come back, and eventually the coldness slowly melts away and the pain stops and the wounds heal.
I’m writing this to let those people know that they’re not alone because sometimes that’s the only thing you need to know. Sometimes that one thing, having just one person reach out and say that they have felt what you feel, makes it worth continuing the fight.
You’re not alone, and you are loved. Keep fighting the good fight because you’re a badass. You got this. Give Life a giant middle finger and tell it to fuck off because no matter how hard it tries, it can’t keep you down. Prove it wrong. Show it that you’re strong. That you’re amazing. That you’re fantastic, and awesome and that you won’t be denied the happiness you deserve to feel.
You’re not fighting alone. I’m fighting with you, and together we’ll come out victorious.