You Are Not Alone, Your Pain Is My Pain Too

I don’t know your face or your name or your demons. But we swim in the same ocean. We breathe the same air. And we see the same color blue in our disposition.

By

Helga Weber
Helga Weber

I use to think there was a romance in sadness. A kind of subtle mysterious air of unknown going on in my brain, taking boys by surprise and swirling them around into the hurricane-mess of girl that I am.

I use to think to know struggle would give me an edge.
But I was naïve. I’ve learned struggle doesn’t give you an edge.

It gives you fear.

You see, the problem with depression and anxiety is that they nestle in the back of your mind. They set up a home under the rug in the linen closet of your brain. They kick up dust of residual insecurities and memories that you ever so carefully taped up, secured on a top shelf, and stored away. And when they tumble out and the dust blows forward, it clouds your vision with a blue, gray darkness. A bleak, dismal shadow.

They lead to nights and mornings of tears without meaning. To wordless answers to questions you’ve already asked yourself. To hours under blankets, eyes closed and breathing. And to disappointments of not knowing how to explain yourself to others.

“I just have a lot of feelings.”
“I guess I’m just a little too much sometimes.”
“Sorry, I just have nights like this.”

And after all the excuses and helpless words escape your mouth and the tears are still dripping down your face, know that I know you. I understand you.

I don’t know your face or your name or your demons. But we swim in the same ocean. We breathe the same air. And we see the same color blue in our disposition.

I understand your fear that your boyfriend or girlfriend or friends may decide you are too much. So you grip them tightly because you need to remember they’re real, they’re here, they’re not leaving, and they love you.

Even this you. The sad you.

I understand the doubt in yourself, that all the wrongdoings that have been done to you have been deserved. That you questioning not having this figured out by now. Fumbling through your words. Picking up the pieces. Pulling at your clothes.

I understand and want you to know that this is momentary. The fear, doubt, and anxiety will subside. Although we both know I’d be lying if I said they’ll disappear, we know that eventually, as Twenty One Pilots has sung,

“Peace will win. Fear will lose.” Thought Catalog Logo Mark