I know how it feels to want to end it all. To feel like every day is just another battle you don’t have the energy to fight. To lie in bed staring at the ceiling, too tired to move, too numb to cry, too hopeless to even try anymore. This goes beyond chronic fatigue, fibromyalgia and even depression sometimes.
I know what it’s like when your mind whispers that things will never get better, that you’re too broken to fix, that the pain will never leave. I think about all of that.
However, I also know that the pain is lying to me sometimes because I’m still able to write this out. It tells you there’s no way out, but that’s not true. We just got to find it somewhere. There is always a way forward, even if you can’t see it right now.
I always tell myself everyday I need to hold on, even if it’s just for one more day, one more hour, one more breath. My hope is what keeps me going the majority of the time.
One day, I will smile without forcing it. One day, I will laugh and actually mean it. I tell myself everyday that I won’t always feel this way.
I wanted friends who would understand though. I never had that. I thought I did but was always hit with backhanded compliment kind of thing. I never had anyone who would sit with me in the silence, who wouldn’t need me to be “okay” all the time. Who would say, “I’m here for you,” and actually mean it.
Instead, I got people who called me dramatic. Who got annoyed when I wasn’t fun anymore. Who disappeared when things got hard, but still expected me to be there for them. People who tell me “you’re too young to feel that way”, “you haven’t lived long enough”, “you’ll get over it”.
I don’t think they ever realized how much that hurt.
How much I needed them to stay.
How alone I feel and hide it anyway.
But I see it now—people who only love you when it’s convenient never really loved you at all.
It’s not you. It’s never you. That’s what I tell myself. I talk and talk and talk, and then one day, I don’t. I stop texting back, I stop calling, I stop showing up. It’s not because I’m tired of people. It’s because I’m tired of my own mind.
There are days when I love the sound of silence when I wake up at 3 AM untangling thoughts and dreams.
Then there are days when even a whisper feels too loud, when even typing out a reply feels like too much. Is it confusing? Probably! I know it makes you wonder, right?
I care more than people would know but I was brought into this world where women of color are supposed to be strong but nurturing, hustling and never show tears. It’s so much harder when my own mind is at war with itself. Please, don’t take my silence differently. Just hold space for me, even when I disappear.
I always come back.
Leave a Reply