PART 1
How do I heal an invisible wound?
I smile like all is well but deep down I feel like a caged animal. I try to scream but all my screams are in vain. I’m out here trying to break free from these chains but feel powerless. Then it hit me, my screams are silent.
I may seem put together but deep inside I’m torn into shreds.
Sometimes I come across as rude because I hardly talk to people let alone go out of my way to engage in a “small talk” as they call it.
Even people I consider my closest friends do not know what goes on in this head of mine.
Even when I’m in a group of people I feel like I don’t belong.
My heart is empty yet overflowing with so much pain, anxiety, depression and almost everything that’s not supposed to be there.
“I don’t know who to talk to”, I would say to myself .
After my long time monologue I finally decided to vent to a friend of mine, Mike. I’m not one to talk about feelings or anything that involves emotions but this time I just decided to pop a pimple. We were walking in the evening but I somehow felt it was a safe space for me to tell him precisely what goes on behind closed doors.
I never let anyone down that basement but we took a stroll down a dark cold room full of cobwebs and unopened dusty boxes that I had thought would not be opened ever again.
He made me realize that crying my eyeballs out and hoping for a miracle was not going to cut it. That I should dust myself and carry on with my journey. I of course would say to him “that’s easier said than done—I know I never talk about feelings and I’m taking a huge one on you at the moment, don’t share what I’m about to tell you with anyone…I mean it” I said. His response was rather short “Come on… you know I wouldn’t, don’t you trust me?”
As we were conversing it came to my realization that I was going on and on about the same thing. How I think I might be depressed and that I snap at people who sometimes do not necessarily deserve it.
After listening with intent and a whole lot of head nodding he decided that giving advice would seem to come from a place of ignorance if I thought otherwise of his own problems.
He then shared his own predicaments, I later realized that he was going through a lot himself and thus hid it well over the years.
As people we go about our days caring about mundane things and pay little attention to things and people who actually matter.
Like people who walk with you through the storm hand holding and all. The ones who would fight tooth and nail to see the storm through with you. The real MVPs.
After what seemed like a counseling session… He said to me” Vanessa, you see I once received heart wrenching news that turned my life upside down within seconds. In that instant I started to question everything about my existence and my identity as a person, I had what I think was a panic attack but it sure felt like my heart had stopped beating. I was hanging out with my flat mates when I received the said news over a phone call. I went from angry to confused then angry once more I was so…infuriated, none of them noticed that there was something wrong with me. They all went about with their conversation as if nothing happened. I stood up for some fresh air to a rude awakening that no one took notice that I was not well. That’s when reality slapped me across the face and I realized that people just don’t care” I mean come to think of it, he was right. Just because you care just a few inches more about the person sitting next to you it does not mean they do about you. At the end of the day you got you.
I listened as he bled his pain and watched as he sewed it right in front of me.
I guess what I’m trying to say is this, we are all going through something and others more than others although I’ve heard that there’s no hierarchy of pain. Still I believe we take for granted how sometimes a simple hello and a smile can make someone’s day.
As people we walk about pretending to be “fine”. I rarely ask someone how they are because I tend to think I already know the answer. Think about it, you run into a friend at a shopping mall then ask how they are. Nine times out of ten they will tell you they are fine.
A lot of times I feel like whenever someone asks me if I’m okay it’s solely based on politeness and mere lip service and not because they genuinely care.
That they would evaporate the moment I start sharing my predicaments.

We have learned to not bother people with our problems and most certainly do not want to be criticized.
The world is so messed up that the masses dread to seek for any help because it’s perceived as weakness.