For a long time, I called my mental illnesses "The Darkness." There were many times it felt like a separate entity that consumed me and made me feel out of control, manic, worthless. For about a year, in the midst of the worst moments of my depression, I pushed myself to write how I was feeling in hopes that I would get a more authentic picture of what it was like to live inside of my head. So I wanted to share with you 12 of my past journal entries, from some of the darkest moments in my life, in hopes that you can see just how low I was, and that it is possible to get better. There is always a light at the end of the tunnel, even when we don't see it. You are loved. You are cherished. You are wanted. You are needed. Keep fighting, because YOU ARE WORTH IT!
(*Disclaimer: some of the messages in this blog post may be triggering to anyone who experiences mental illness or suicidal tendencies, please read at your own discretion)
Journal Entry #1:
The darkness likes to have conversations with me.
“Just stop. Stop trying to beat this when you know you can’t. Nobody wants you here, nobody cares if you’re here. What impact do you have on this world? You’re just wasting your parents money on your medical bills. You’re just stressing out your husband because he doesn’t know how to take care of you. You don’t even know how to take care of yourself. Your achievements have amounted to nothing. You’re 23 years old and you haven’t been able to work in 2 years. You’re eating disorder will never let you get where you need to be. Your sicknesses will just keep getting worse and you will NEVER be happy again. Ever. Everybody from your past HATES you. You are an embarrassment to everyone you’ve crossed paths with and nobody wants to see you again. You know that reunion coming up in 5 years? You can just forget about that because everyone would just laugh at your arrival. Laugh at who you were and who you became. Make the comments about how much weight you’ve gained and how you’re just not beautiful anymore. You remember that boy that made you question your worth for 7 years? Remember how he told you he loved you, but always chose someone else over you? How he promised for 6 years you’d be together one day and then never came through? The one who was too ashamed of you to let people know about you two? The one who has moved on and doesn’t think twice about you, but you still haven’t moved on from the pain he caused you? The one you based your self-worth on your whole childhood? You pathetic low-life. I'm going to make you feel that pain over and over again for the rest of your life. He never wanted you. He wanted to use you and you fell for him. You loved him so much, he was your first love, after all. You always made yourself available to him for so long and he still didn’t want you. And the fact that you can’t let go of the pain because you never got the closure you needed? Never got the satisfaction that he actually felt bad for what he did? Never. He would never do that. Because he blamed everything on you, Sara. Everything he did was merely a result from something you did. How could you have told his girlfriend that he lied to you about being together with her so he could get in your pants? You are the worst person in the world for doing that, and of course, he dropped you like a hat after that. And how could you be a home wrecker? Aren’t you better than that? Oh yeah, off topic. But don’t you remember that awful embarrassing thing you did a few years ago? Yeah, everybody thinks about it all the time and just laughs at your expense. How could you be so embarrassing? How can you even live with yourself knowing you’ve done THAT? Oh and remember when you used to be on a path of success? Yeah, all of that has been stripped away from you because you don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve to be happy and you don’t deserve to live. You deserve exactly what came to you. The darkness is your friend now. And you don’t want to piss of your friends. You need to please everyone. Stay here, in this living hell on earth, because you DESERVE it. You deserve it. You deserve it. You deserve...worse.”
Journal Entry #2:
I feel like my whole existence is a burden to everyone around me. And I don’t want to be a burden. To anyone. I just want someone to reach out to me. But I just feel like no one cares. That if I were to never talk to them again, it wouldn’t even matter. It wouldn’t matter to them if I just faded into the background. They haven’t shown that you’ve mattered since you have faded into the background. Don’t they understand how hard it is to reach out when I feel like I’m a constant burden on them?
Journal Entry #3:
Sometimes I feel like I’m already dead, just living on auto. Sometimes you don’t know how trapped you are, until you try to break free. I’m a prisoner in my own mind, in my own body. I can’t seem to break free. I’m tired and weary and tired of fighting. Sometimes, I would be okay just never waking up again. Then this nightmare, this prison, this unending heart break, would all be over. And I’d be in peace with my Heavenly Father. In perfect. Peace.
No one cares about me. Not in the woe is me type of way. But in the way that you feel so deeply inside of your soul that you don’t matter to anyone. Because even when you’ve tried speaking up about what you’re going through, the best you get is a comment on your public social media page that says “I’m always here for you.” Yet no one truly lent out a helping hand. What good is letting someone know you’re there for them when you haven’t actually made the effort to reach out? We’re all guilty of this, even me. But you never expect those that are suppose to be closest to you to distance themselves from you because of what you’re going through. Of course they would never admit that to your face, but let’s be real; It would kill you inside to know that the very thoughts that make you want to end things, are actually true. I never thought I was a burden, until trying to talk about it was too uncomfortable for them. Or until they ended up turning the conversation into their own problems. Which happens far more often than I’d obviously like. Even if I sat here and wrote every detail of what I was going through, it would still fail in comparison to how it feels in real life. And it kills me that no one will ever truly know what I’m going through.
Journal Entry #4:
I feel like I’m living my life in my own head and that nobody else can understand me. I know that doesn’t seem big to someone else, but not being understood is what I feel leads my friendships and relationships with people to slowly die off. Nobody understands why I’m not better 2 years later. And maybe if they could understand, they would treat me the way I need to be treated. But that’s just it. I don’t get to choose how others treat me. And that gives me anxiety. It gives me anxiety that I need to change something in myself so that others can continue to act the way they do without it completely crushing me. It upsets me that no one seems to be willing to just act how I need them to act towards me. Because it wouldn’t hurt them at all to do those loving things, but it hurts me that they don’t.
Journal Entry #5:
Imagine your deepest, darkest days; the most depressed you’ve ever been. Now, add a voice in your head, yelling at you that you’re just not worth it and just not good enough. Stick that person alone in a single bedroom apartment, with no one who comes home except their husband at night...for 2 years. To be honest I’m proud of myself for not going totally mentally insane. Do you know what it’s like to feel trapped for 2 years? To feel like you made some progress, and then to have it all yanked away from you time and time again. For 2 years. I’m not allowed to give up. God won’t allow me to do that. If it wasn’t for God, if it wasn’t for my husband, I am 100% convinced I wouldn’t still be here. This is too much for one person to handle. And I can’t even tell you the half of it.
Hell, stick any person, regardless of previous mental state, in an apartment alone for 2 years, getting out only a handful of times. That person is bound to leave more screwed up than they came. Regardless if they had perfect mental health or not to begin with. Yet, everyone thinks it’s a great idea to leave me alone in my fight with this darkness. One of the number one reasons for wanting to kill myself? That feeling that no one cares. I don’t think anyone would care about this until I actually died, even if I told them in detail everything that’s happened.
You know I feel like if I shared this with everyone, all my friends would probably feel like they weren’t contributors to this empty loneliness. Or worse, they get mad at me for me feeling that way, claiming that’s not how they acted. But I don’t have one text saying “hey how are you doing lately? Haven’t heard from you in a while. Could you use some company?” But I can’t hang out with them unless I have the money to go out, which I don’t have a job, so therefore no money to go out. So I just get left behind. I don’t even get invited anymore, because apparently I just always say no because of finances. Do you know how many times I've asked someone to come here to hang out? And every time its a last minute cancel, they don't respond, or I get lucky and they come over for an hour tops. And for the record, they've only come over twice. In 2 years. I'm sorry, but I just can't say that my friends have been good to me. Because they haven't. In their own minds, they've been fine, but they haven't truly been here for me. They don't even show interest when I try to update them on my life. No one wants to hear what I have to say, because it seems too hard for them to hear. But they don't think about how hard it's been for me to go through this, with no one to fully open up to.
Journal Entry #6:
Should I feel ashamed for going to Intensive Outpatient again? No. I shouldn’t be. I’m really proud of myself for reaching out and asking for the help I need. That is hands down one of the HARDEST things to do. People truly don’t understand just how hard it is to reach out to anyone while you’re mentally unstable. I’m not reaching out not because I don’t need your help, but because I don’t want to feel like a burden to you. Because somehow that seems worse than doing it alone. I need someone to tell me “you’re not a burden, let’s talk about what you need to talk about.” But, apparently, it’s too hard for other people to hear what I have to say, so I sit alone, yet again. Why does nobody want to know what’s going on with me? Why do they only show they care when I post a Facebook status? I’ve given those I barely even know the time of day, so why can’t those closest to me hear what I have to say? One of the easiest ways to start feeling trapped is never getting to share anything. Because nobody wants to hear bad news, they only want good news. Nobody’s life is good all the time. You’re not the one embracing all this pain, so why is it so hard for you to hear? I’m sorry, am I making YOU uncomfortable?
Journal Entry #7:
You know, life hasn’t felt normal for two years. Everyday feels so surreal, like I’m living in a dream. Like I’m floating up out of my body and watching myself just aimlessly wander through life. I wish that was an exaggeration. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t feel foggy and cloudy. I can’t remember what it feels like to walk outside and feel truly refreshed and alive and awake. To wake up feeling ready to go. I feel like a zombie who hasn’t eaten brains in 2 years (you’ll get that reference if you’ve watched iZombie). I just want life to feel like life again. And I’m scared it never will.
Journal Entry #8:
Today I woke up feeling like I didn’t want to live anymore. Like, it was actually giving me anxiety at the thought of having to continue my life. I’m at this point where I just want someone to carry me to the finish line because even the thought of having to muster the strength drains my energy to my core. I can’t stop crying because of the lack of control I feel. My body aches with a mixture of sharp pains and a dull pain radiating throughout my body. I feel like I have an elephant sitting on me weighing me down, unable to get out of bed. My soul feels cold and damaged and broken. This is what I’ve feared. Feeling like this again. It’s the worst feeling in the world not wanting to live, but not wanting to die either. I just want to live in limbo. Because at least I will never feel this level of pain ever again. I wonder how long it will last this time. I’ve been anticipating today for about a week now. I could feel myself slipping into that dark space that feels literally impossible to crawl out of. I guess for now all I can do is try to let is pass. I just wish each day felt shorter on days like this. Because what is only a month of deep deep depression in real time, feels like a year in hell that will never end. Sometimes I wonder if I’m already in hell.
Journal Entry #9:
It really sucks going out and having a good time. Don’t get me wrong, getting out and getting a distraction feels amazing. Sensational. You temporarily remember what living feels like. And you never want it to end. But, it eventually does and when everything is all said and done, and you’re back in your filthy apartment, sitting on a couch with the biggest imprint of your ass, you remember that you’re still surrounded with the darkness. Not only that, but the fact that the people you’re with during those amazing times always seem to forget everything you’re going through because of your temporary happiness with them. Every single time. They act as if spending one night out and me smiling and laughing is enough evidence to see that I'm doing fine.
But, the darkness is so deeply ingrained in me, I no longer identify as Sara, but as depression. As anxiety. As the darkness. I have become the darkness that set out to attack me, day in and day out. That is my new identifier. And I’m comfortable here. Because even as bad as the darkness is, I know the darkness. And I know it knows me.
Journal Entry #10:
Depression and anxiety like to take on many different hats in my life. One minute, they make you feel everything. All at once. My heart feels like it is LITERALLY about to pop out of my chest. My whole body is shaking. I feel anger and pain and the very deepest of sorrows that physically hurts you to your core. You feel as though you have just been shot. I can feel my whole world crashing all around me, on top of me; hitting me in the face. And the pain hurts so tremendously, it’s hard to bare. It’s not just mental anymore. It’s physical. And then the next moment you feel nothing. Absolutely nothing. You don’t even feel like you’re in your own body. Everything goes numb and foggy. Conversations are impossible. People start to sound like the teacher in Charlie Brown (that’s the best way I’ve ever heard that described). I can’t understand anyone, and nobody can understand me. I’m drowning, alone. Slowly sinking into a pit of unforeseen darkness. You feel like you’re already dead. It’s not you living anymore. Your body is just on auto mode. You can feel the person inside slowly slipping away until you can’t recognize yourself anymore. Your old self has died. And they are never coming back. This isn’t what you wanted. You were fine with who you were. But it’s not your choice. And now, you’re mourning the loss of the person you once knew the most. She’s dead, and gone forever. And you’re left with this new person that now lives inside of you. They’re a stranger and you don’t know who they are or why they’re here. I didn’t know you could feel like a stranger to yourself. Until the darkness took everything away from me in the blink of an eye.
Journal Entry #11:
Some mornings I wake up and I feel like I’m going to die. Not in an emotional way. In a physical way. I physically feel so sick, it feels like I’m slowly dying. My body just hurts. All over. Something feels wrong with my organs, and my breathing in a way I can’t explain. You know one week, my stress got so high that I woke up 3 times that week not being able to fully see for the first half an hour of waking up. I just saw those spots you see when you close your eyes really hard. In one way or another, my stress is attacking my body and I can’t get it to stop. Not unless I bring my stress down. But I can’t do that with my given illnesses. Not that easily anyway.
Journal Entry #12:
Living with depression and anxiety is literally like living in your own world. You feel like you speak your own made up language that you, and only you, can understand. You feel like you’re looking at life through a window. You don’t get to go out and experience it like everyone else, you just get to watch it happen from inside the glass. Conversations are muted. Everything is completely out of reach, but so damn close you can almost taste it. You so badly just want to break through the glass and reach through, but the glass is unbreakable. You feel like you’re banging on the window, begging for someone to come rescue you and bring you outside. It’s not until months of banging on the glass that you realize the window is actually a double sided mirror. All they can see is their own reflection, nobody can see you. You’re not there. Your depression isn’t there. Anxiety, eating disorder, none of it is seen by anyone else. The darkness stays inside the house (the house being me) and doesn’t let anyone see. No one comes in the house but you and the darkness. And although you’re screaming from the inside dying to break free, dying to open the door and let the light in, nobody can see. And the lock seems to be only on the outside of the house, with a special code that no one but God has the answer to.
While a lot of these journal entries are very intense and coming from a hopeless place, I think one of the biggest things I take from re-reading these past journal entries is that I really depended on others to save me, when I needed to save myself. There was nobody who could have saved me the way God brought me to picking myself up. Even though I may have been a victim to *some* of my circumstances, doesn't mean someone else needs to fix me. And it took me a long time to learn that. Nobody will pick you up like you can. Like God can. So my advice to you, as harsh as it sounds, it to stop waiting for others. Stop waiting for them to save you. Stop waiting for them to care. Start loving yourself and start caring for yourself! When you truly start to love yourself, you don't need others to pick you up to get back on your feet. You can start to feel the strength of picking yourself up and the gratitude that comes with the empowerment of realizing yourself, that you're worth it.
I hope these journal entries served as some sort of educational piece, a comfort to those who identify with my words, and served as hope that your darkest moments WILL pass and don't last forever. If you have survived everything you've gone through already, I know you can get through everything. You are not alone and you can get through this. Don't be afraid to reach out for help, don't be afraid to pick yourself up. You got this.
Much love xx, Sara