how do you even ask for help?
suicide hotlines, optimism, church, exhaustion, loneliness, and god-fearing old women.
A small note before you read: This piece explores hopelessness, intrusive thoughts, suicidal ideation, and the loneliness that can accompany heartbreak and depression. I write these darker pieces as a way to connect with myself and to break free from the taboo that’s associated with mental health issues. I find comfort in reading and watching darker content when I’m not doing great because it makes me feel less alone, but please be mindful of how you’re feeling whilst reading this. <3
I don’t know what you’re supposed to do when you’re not doing well.
Do you ask for help?
How do you even ask for help?
Do I look sad and hope someone notices? That’s a bit passive.
Do I tell someone I’m sad and then they feel responsible for making me happy and then I feel guilty for making them feel responsible for my emotions?
Do I keep it to myself, suffer in silence and look like a stoic?
Do I write about it and post it on substack in the hopes someone might understand, or is that attention seeking?
Fuck. Why am I suddenly experiencing analysis paralysis?
I guess people go to God when they feel like giving up.
Perhaps I should go to church.
Although, I know I’d sit there thinking about the fact religion is a construct created by man to deal with the pain and sorrow inflicted by man and I’d laugh at the irony of it all and that would make it, like, super hard to get into the flow state with prayer and stuff. It would kill the vibe and all the old ladies would turn around and stare at me with those God fearing eyes and later talk about me over coffee and cake and I’ll be forever known as ‘that possessed witchy girl giggling in the back-row pew’.
The days are so dark and I’m haunted by optimism.
“Just keep going”
“Go to the gym”
“See a therapist”
“Have you left the house?”
“Did you get some sun on your skin?”
“Have you slept for 8 hours?”
I kinda wish optimism could fuck pessimism to gain some perspective right now because man, I’ve done it all and nothing is curing this ache. It’s leaked into every muscle and my body feels so damn heavy.
What do you do when you’ve lost all hope?
Do you book a tarot card reading with a wanna-be gypsy in some dodgy basement?
The feeling of falling feels momentarily freeing, but the reality of eternity feels too final.
Ah! Maybe this is when people call those ‘hotlines’...
“Hello, how can I help you?”
“Hi, yes, I’m thinking of jumping off a bridge, can you convince me why I shouldn’t?”
“Can you list a few things you love and care about?
“Yeah, that’s not gonna work right now. Can you just give me a pep talk that sounds motivational but actually makes me hate myself more? That usually does the trick.”
“Sure! Don’t be such a drama queen. People have it way worse than you, so you should just be grateful. Besides, you’re too much of a pussy to do it anyway. Just be positive and focus on something else.”
“Damn. Okay yeah that should keep me going for a few more weeks, thanks so much for your help! Talk again soon!”.
When people ask each other if they’re okay, nobody ever tells the truth really. So we just keep showing up with a big smile on our faces and tell people we’re good and act all strong and resilient, even if we’re breaking inside.
Life honestly feels like a competitive wank fest of ‘who can act the most unaffected by their pain’. Everyone compares their unaffectedness and then some people (me) feel like a failure if they’re still affected. It doesn’t help when there are people who genuinely make you feel like an idiot for feeling the way you do and you internalise that voice and you’re constantly fighting a battle between your brain and your heart until you’re sitting at the edge of your bed, paralysed by your own voice.
“I feel so broken and alone and misunderstood.”
“GET OVER IT. GET A ROUTINE. GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER. THEY DON’T CARE, SO WHY SHOULD YOU? STOP BEING SUCH A PUSSY. BE BETTER. DO BETTER.”
It’s so fucking exhausting. Nothing is helping anymore and I keep circling back to this same hopelessness and I just want to sleep for a really long time. I want to hide in my room in the darkness and numb myself with distractions.
Books. Movies. Drugs. Porn. Books. Movies. Drugs. Porn.
Focusing on something else is what has kept me going.
Focusing on something else is what has stopped me from collapsing into the weight of my pain.
But I have nothing I want to focus on anymore. There’s nothing. It’s just empty.
It all feels so pointless.
I don’t know how to ask for help. I don’t even know what I’d need if I were to ask. The only thing I needed was to not sit in this silence because it’s unbearable. But I’ve been forced into it by the last person who gave me hope, and now I just have to sit here feeling like a fucking fool for ever trusting or believing them.
I feel like I’ve been trying to catch on to anything that feels as meaningful as that did, but nothing feels the same anymore.
I just don’t have the energy. I’m so tired.
I don’t know how to ask for help.
I don’t even know what I need.
I don’t want people to worry about me, but maybe I do?
I don’t want people to think I’m weak, but what if I am?
It feels like we’re all acting like we’ve got it figured out, even though we don’t
We have to compete in a game of indifference, even if we’re anything but.
The pretending. The performing. The hustling. What is it all for?
If everything I believed in turned out to be a lie, why does it feel like I’ve lost a game?
Why can’t I just be heartbroken instead of feeling like I’ve failed a test too?
My friends will ask me if I’m okay, and I’ll usually say I am, even though I’m not. I will say I’m getting better, even though I feel like I’m back where I started.
Nobody wants to be a burden. Life is hard enough as it is.
So, I’ll keep writing because right now, these words are the only thing keeping me going. These words which I can hide behind. These words which help me make sense of what I’m feeling. These words which make me feel like I can and do exist outside of my head. These words that give me the tiniest bit of hope that someone else knows how I feel. These words that might make me feel a little less alone.
One step at a time.
One word at a time.
Maybe you just need for someone to be present with you while you go through this right now until life feels just a little better. I’m sorry that you’re going through this, Abbie. Know that you are thought of and that I hope you feel lighter soon.