This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.
I’ve talked before about “shining light into all the dark spaces.” Often, that’s what writing is for me, a way to shine light into the deep dark areas of my mental illness and remove the power that goes along with hiding it. It’s a HUGE part of what I believe in. Removing the stigma by “Sharing my story and speaking my truth.”
Except, when I’m suicidal, the fog grabs hold of me and silences me. It tells me, if I reach out I’ll be attention seeking, or bothering people with my whining. It tells me people don’t want to hear that I’m fighting those demons again, for the umpteenth time this year. It tells me I have to do it alone, quietly, without bothering anyone else. It tells me no one else has the time or energy to deal with my crazy.
But this is dumb.
The second I share my struggles…
The second I put finger to keys and hit send…
The second I put sound to lips to be heard by another’s ear…
…my pain lessens. The load is lifted slightly.
It’s almost like, shining light into all the dark spaces, makes those spaces a little less dark. (Who woulda thought!?!)
But first I have to be able to see my way out, enough, to find my own voice.
Sometimes people are reaching in, and I can’t even find my voice to tell them.
Sometimes I don’t even know what I need to say, except, “Help”, and I don’t know what help I need, except someone to just be there.
I know, when I’m in that space I can totally understand why Parker didn’t speak up. It’s hard to reach out from within that void. It’s hard to find my way out of the fog far enough to ask for help.
I think it takes a different sort of strength to ask for that kind of help, to admit to that kind of pain, over and over and over again.
For now, those thoughts are quiet. I have no doubt that they’ll find their way back at some point. All I can do is prepare myself to do battle again, and to reach out to lighten the load a bit.