I’m a PhD student, a professional, and a person who often feels suicidal.
I wake up in the morning and the first thing I do, before drinking coffee and going to school, is cry. After I find a pillow, I close my eyes and sob uncontrollably like a child who can’t find their parents. I become lost in a feeling of emptiness so vast that the only thing that pulls me out is the alarm I set to remind me to take a shower.
I fill my days from 6 a.m. to midnight so I don’t have to feel the hole I have in my heart that grows as I age. I’ve tried to run away, but it doesn’t work. It says hello to me as I shower, and again as I put on the T-shirt someone who I once knew gave me.
I ended up in the hospital last month after I had been crying for what felt like a week. After days of being unable to console myself, I walked into the emergency room for help. Unfortunately, I was left alone in a cold room and only fell deeper into the hole.
I’ve been encouraged to befriend the sadness, and so I’ve tried for the past three weeks. Each time the hole begins to whisper in my ear, I curl up in bed and write another poem. It’s day 20 of befriending the hole, and I’ve written 47. There’s not much difference these days between me and Sylvia Plath. I plan to stay alive though.
All around me, people are talking, laughing about television shows, and discussing something they heard on a podcast, while I struggle to stay present and wonder why they too don’t feel the hole. I wonder where this hole came from, and why I can’t seem to plug it.
It’s true that I can sit with it, but I’ll need to buy a new journal soon because I’m on my last page.
If you’ve ever struggled with this feeling or a mother wound, you’re not alone. We do exist and are also lost in the feelings of emptiness. If you’re looking for a friend, I’ll meet you in the hole. Maybe it won’t go away, but at least we don’t have to experience it alone. Meet me there if you’d like. I could always use more friends.
Your friend from the hole, Rebecca