09.21.26

There are points in all of our lives where something takes a toll on us mentally, emotionally, or even physically. Maybe we're grieving someone we've lost, struggling in a relationship, overwhelmed by work, worried about money, or simply trying to navigate a season of life that feels heavier than we expected.

I have had many moments in my life that have taken a major toll on me, and when I'm in the middle of one of those difficult periods, it can be incredibly hard to see a light at the end of the tunnel. Even when I know what I'm feeling is temporary, the emotions can feel so overwhelming in the moment that the idea of eventually feeling better seems almost, if not entirely, impossible.

During many of these moments, I find myself feeling completely alone. That isn't to say that I don't know I have my husband, my friends, and my family surrounding me. I know I have people in my life who love me and people I could reach out to if I needed them. Yet when I'm going through something that feels deeply personal, there are times when I still feel completely alone.

My friends and family all have their own lives, their own things going on, and their own problems to deal with. So why should I add mine to everything else they already have on their plate? Why should I bother them with what I'm going through when my problems might seem so minuscule compared to everything else they're dealing with? If they're on vacation, I don't want to interrupt that. If they just celebrated a milestone, I don't want to bring them down with my problems. There always seems to be a reason why I shouldn't reach out, and somehow I can always convince myself that my problems can wait.

I realize now that so many of these thoughts are influenced by my own anxiety. I convince myself that I'm doing the people I love a favor by not bothering them or burdening them with whatever I'm going through. The thing is, not one person in my life has ever made me feel like I couldn't talk to them. If anything, they've shown me the exact opposite. They reach out to ask how I'm doing and whether I'm okay. They offer advice when I need it, or simply listen when I don't need anything other than someone to hear me. And yet my mind still tells me, "You're just being annoying. You could have bigger problems than this. Other people have been through this or worse, so why are you complaining?" Sometimes I find myself questioning whether what I'm feeling is even worth talking about, as if I need to prove that my problems are difficult enough before I'm allowed to acknowledge them.

Even though I understand that these are my own negative thoughts clouding my mind, sometimes I still can't get past them. Sometimes they become so loud that it feels like I can't breathe, cue the panic attack. In those moments, life feels hard enough on its own, and feeling completely alone makes it even harder. I have to remind myself that it's okay to feel overwhelmed. It's okay to feel sad. It's okay to be going through something. It's okay if life has taken a toll on me.

However, these thoughts didn't come from nowhere. For most of my life, I would openly vent to my family and friends when life felt hard. I used to talk about what I was going through without thinking twice about whether I was bothering anyone. Then one day, someone I considered to be a close friend said, "You're honestly so annoying. All you do is complain." I took those words to heart. What had once felt normal, just talking about my feelings and leaning on the people I loved, suddenly felt like something I should be ashamed of. I started questioning everything I shared and eventually convinced myself that maybe they were right. Maybe I complained too much. Maybe my problems weren't important enough to talk about. So I stopped. I stopped sharing the things that were bothering me and began keeping everything to myself, afraid that saying too much would make everyone else see me the same way.

This wasn't healthy. I had no way to cope with the difficult things that came my way because I refused to let anyone know I was struggling. Eventually, I felt completely isolated, but not because I didn't have anyone to talk to or because my friends and family didn't care about me. I felt isolated because I was keeping everything to myself. Every problem became mine to deal with and mine alone. I convinced myself that people wouldn't understand, that they would think I was ridiculous for being upset, or that what I was going through wasn't important enough to bring to them. If someone asked if I was okay, I would tell them I was fine, even when I wasn't. "I'm doing great." Of course, that's what I would say, but in reality, I was miserable.

This feeling of being alone lasted for years. When I really think about it, only one person ever told me I was annoying. So why did I let that make me believe that was how everyone else saw me? They never said that. They never made me feel that way. If anything, the people in my life were supportive of me and did what they could to help when I needed them. It took me a long time to understand that one person's perception of me didn't dictate how everyone else saw me. I had taken one person's words and allowed them to shape the way I viewed all of my other relationships, even when those people had shown me nothing but support.

I wasn't actually alone. I was afraid to let people in.

It took me a long time to understand that being honest about struggling doesn't make me a burden. I'm human. I have feelings. Sometimes I struggle, and sometimes life is just hard. I'm allowed to be sad. I'm allowed to go through a difficult time and talk about it. The people who know me, love me, and genuinely care about me aren't going to suddenly see me as annoying because I'm having a hard time. They may not always understand exactly what I'm going through, and they may not have experienced the same things themselves, but that doesn't mean they won't try to understand. They can listen, support me, or simply be there, and sometimes that's all I need.

It's not easy to get out of that negative headspace, and it's not easy to talk about the things that hurt us or the thoughts and feelings that weigh on us every day. Knowing that someone cares about us doesn't automatically make reaching out easy. Sometimes the hardest part isn't what we're going through; it's believing that we have to go through it alone. So if you're reading this and thinking, "I've been here too," I want you to know that you're not alone. You don't have to have the right words or a good enough reason. You don't have to wait until things get worse before you're allowed to reach out. You're allowed to simply say, "I'm not okay."

And if all else fails, you have The Things We Don't Say. Write down how you're feeling and submit your story anonymously. Put your voice out there and know that someone, somewhere, cares about you and what you're going through, no matter how big or small.

The first step toward feeling less alone is breaking the silence.

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