Hello to the Abyss

For years I have been told (by others and my own brain) that I should really think about journaling. And throughout those years I have tried many times to start, never lasting more than a day or two. Despite knowing the benefits, as well as numerous people who swear by it, I could never seem to see it as anything other than pointless. Why am I taking the time to write down these thoughts in my head in a notebook that I don't intend for anyone to read. If no one else is going to read it anyway, aren't those thoughts safer in my head?  

Never mind the fact that those thoughts were often toxic, hanging in my head like a miasmic fog before seeping down into the rest of my body. It filled my arms and legs like a lead weight, making every movement feel like a marathon. It swelled in my chest and stung my eyes like a sob that perpetually strained to be released. It curdled in my stomach, creating a roiling, churning chasm that alternated between empty for days and overly full of whatever was in reach that passed as food. 

This cloud, persistent and all-encompassing, became my normal. Everyone lies in bed every morning dreading the thought of getting up. Everyone randomly needs to take deep breaths throughout the day to hold back the wave of tears that seemingly rises up from nowhere. Everyone’s brain keeps a running log of every single way you have been a burden to the people around you. Everyone goes through life silently wishing for it to end. The only thing that made me different from everyone else was that I couldn’t seem to handle it the way everyone else could. 

It wasn’t until I began to actually talk about those thoughts and the toxic fog created by them that I had two realizations: 1) This was not a normal way to live and I wasn’t weak or broken for needing help, and 2) It might not be normal, but it wasn’t uncommon, and there are millions of people out there just as silent, struggling just as much. 

So here I am, breaking my silence and chucking those thoughts into the great abyss that is the internet. I am not under any impression that these thoughts will ever be found and read, but I think I’m okay with that. It is enough to know that someone could stumble their way here and find some sort of solidarity in the mess that is me. And if no one ever does, I’ll still find comfort in knowing the thoughts that have poisoned me for so long are finally being let out. Because I'm done keeping them safe.