This is what we refer to as the "prison section" of journaling
TW: Mentions Self Harm
I feel as though I should state that I am not suicidal for those of you who stumble across this blog or for those of you who I have given the link to. I am not planning on killing myself. I have fleeting moments of wanting to die, they come and go.
No I don't need medication. No, I am not depressed. No, I do not actually want to die.
As stated in the title this is the prison section of journaling, this is where all the dark we have inside ourselves comes out. So as I continue to write, I will be labeling those posts in the subtitle as the prison section.
This morning at work I had an intrusive thought. How would it feel if I just let myself fall over this balcony? I've been dealing with these thoughts for the past few years off and on again. I reached out to my group to see if they'd had any similar experiences with these kind of thoughts and they have. Which in a way was comforting. So if you're having these thoughts. Just know that you're not alone.
Earlier this week, I thought about just letting myself lose control of my vehicle. Letting my body brush roughly against the jabbing edges on the broken fence. I thought about all these things but I didn't do them.
I don't want to die but sometimes I want to hurt, I want a physical pain so extreme that I cannot feel anything emotionally. I want something to block it all out. I used to be able to shut it all down but after each trauma it is getting increasingly harder to close those doors because each door I close another breaks open. It's like when you're a kid and you're trying to shove everything in your messy room inside your closet to make it look like you cleaned but things keep tumbling against it and then your mom comes to check and opens that door and everything just comes out in a tumbling wreck. Toys that you haven't played with in months or years are the first ones to come out tumbling and land at your feet.
My mind is a childs messy room stuffed inside a closet but that door was never opened and over the years more mess kept getting shoved in and when I finally opened that door, so much came rushing out that I couldn't even see myself anymore in the mess. That mess was all consuming and I was drowning in it. I am still drowning in it but slowly through this journey I will begin to clean.
I have unpacked the box with the label Bruce, through meditation and borrowed strength I opened that door and rescued my child self. I carried her broken soul and small body out of that school, out of that memory which used to be inescapable, out of that torment, and I saved her. I saved me. I held her in my arms and wiped her tears. I let her know that she was brave, she was strong, beautiful and none of it was her fault. I set her free. I set myself free. I took the chains that used to bind me to that place and I broke them.
I have so many doors and so many boxes. A lot of pain locked behind and inside each one. I'm hoping that as I continue this journey these "prison sections" of my mind will happen less and less until one day they are completely gone.
One day, I hope to be completely free. I hope that I can greet each version of me with open arms and embrace myself in a way that I haven't in a long time.
About the author
Hello! My pen-name for this is Roxy Wolf. Not using my real name due to personal reasons. One day that may change. This is part of my journey to healing & learning to use my voice. I hope this helps others know they're not alone.