This is a letter to you —
The your who has had a tough week. The you who wants to quit and give up. The you who feels worthless and feels like you will never be enough. The you who has lost faith in herself. The you who feels like nothing is going right. The you who has dealt with one too many hardships. To you.
You light up the room when you smile. You brighten someone’s day with a simple hello. Don’t give up, keep thriving. Your time is
coming. Don’t let go. You can do this.
You never noticed that I cried myself to sleep every night. You never noticed the scars on my body. You never noticed the pain in my eyes. You never noticed my fear of the outside world. You never noticed the exact things you were doing to me were the very reasons tearing me apart.
That day felt different than all of the rest. Even the wind seemed to blow differently. The taste of honey on my tongue was no longer pleasing. Something wasn’t right and that something was me.
The day I met my anxiety wasn’t my idea of how first dates should go. I was seventeen. I had such feelings I had never felt before. No these weren’t butterflies…these were piranhas tearing out my insides. Waves of panic and angst rushed over me. I didn’t know how to handle them and to be honest, I still don’t, but that’s not the point.
I was always the shy kid in my later teens. Never outgoing, afraid to speak if front of the class, type. But this day brought my fears to an all time high. I didn’t know what anxiety was. I could barely solve for x, let alone even begin to try and understand my mental health.
I remember sitting in the bathroom stall at school, crying, shaking, and thinking I was on my death bed. There it was, my first anxiety attack. I broke the seal, I cut the ribbon, I was now open for business.
If there is anything I learned from that day is to not cry in a high school bathroom because people will think you’re pregnant.
One symptom of bipolar disorder is racing thoughts. Here is my interpretation of how this symptom effects me.
It’s like an angry swarm of bees inside of my head. Constantly moving and creating noise. The thoughts jump in and out like a slide show. One after another after another. Over and over again. It doesn’t stop. It doesn’t let up, it just keeps cycling. On repeat. Usually none of them are good thoughts. Most of the time the thoughts are completely unrelated to each other. I jump tangentially from one to another. It’s almost as if there is a loss of control. But what if I told you, I was never in control in the first place?
Depression crawls down my spine, plucking my spinal cord like a guitar string. Caressing every vertebrae with his venomous fingers, infecting everything he touches. He holds me closely and whispers love songs in my ear. I try to get away but his tenacious grip is interwoven with my bones, hung on him like barbed-wire. Except the barbed-wire is embedded in my flesh and I’m standing alone.
My legs are growing weaker now, and I’m not sure how much longer I can carry around this burden. Thoughts of hopelessness are drowning me and I forgot how to swim.
My body feels numb, yet I can feel everything all at once. The waves wash over me, pulling me under. My mind is starving for oxygen, yet lusting after love but I’m so content with being lonely.
“What’s it like to have suicidal thoughts?”
They don’t really ask how your day is, they just assume. So sometimes they show up unannounced, like an old friend from out of town, which in turn, makes it harder to cope. They come and go. They really just linger. Sometimes I pay them attention, but other times I just leave them out in the cold. Other times they bother me. They’ll pick and poke and get under my skin. It will feel like fire running through my veins. Like my skin is a melting popsicle on a hot summer’s day. But sometimes, they’re my only friends.
my petals wither in the heat,
get damaged by storms,
and are plucked one by one,
wondering if he loves her not
Sometimes I wonder why loneliness comes so naturally to me but then I realize that it’s because everyone in my life always leaves. Loneliness seems so easy because I let it. I let it enter my life and consume me. In doing so, the loneliness comforts me. It surrounds me and creates padding between myself and the outside world. I push away everyone who comes my way because then it takes away the sting when they eventually leave. Or I end up pushing myself so far from them that I actually do the leaving. Loneliness is familiar and kind to me but there is nothing more lonely than feeling alone in a crowded room.
I feel you
deep inside of my bones,
spreading your deadly seed
within my meadow,
killing all of my flowers