There was a time in my life when I couldn’t feel anything. Not sadness, not love, not joy, not hope. Just a vast, echoing emptiness. And in that emptiness, the only thing I could feel was fear.
Not fear of the world or other people. Not even fear of death, really. It was fear of myself. Fear that one day, I’d stop fighting the intrusive thoughts. Fear that I’d stop flinching at the images in my mind. Fear that the version of me who moves the scissors, avoids the knives, tells someone, takes the pill, writes the journal, prays to whatever's listening, fear that she would go quiet. That she would give up.
That fear is what kept me alive.
And I think that’s why I understand now why people give in. Because that last thread of fear is what holds you here. Once that’s gone - once the darkness has numbed you enough to silence even that voice- you stop fighting. Not because you don’t want to live, but because you just don’t feel the reason to anymore.
I remember the vividness of those intrusive thoughts. They weren’t just ideas. They were scenes. So clear, so specific. Like my brain was a movie projector set on a loop I never asked for. I couldn’t trust myself around blades. I couldn’t be alone with sharp objects. And still, I functioned. I worked. I smiled. I was a mother. A wife. A daughter. But underneath, I was white-knuckling through every minute of the day.
What pulled me back was the smallest spark. My baby dancing. Erbe doing a silly butt shake. A memory I could replay just long enough to remind myself: there was still a thread connecting me to life. It was thin. But it was there.
Now that I’m on antidepressants, I have more days where I feel like myself. But I still know what it’s like to live without light. I know what it’s like when joy isn’t possible. When love feels theoretical. When the people around you are talking, laughing, moving, and you’re trapped behind an invisible wall, wondering how they do it.
This post isn’t to scare anyone. It’s not even to inspire. It’s to say: if you’ve been there, I see you. If you’re there now, I get it. If you’ve never been there but love someone who is, don’t assume they’re weak. They are fighting a war you cannot see.
I get it now. Why people give in to the darkness. And I get why some of us don’t. Because sometimes, all it takes is one spark. And maybe today, reading this, someone finds theirs.
