Tears and what I know


Typically when I write, I end up crying. It doesn’t matter if I’m in an episode or not. Something about the process is so deep and raw that I always end up welling up with tears. Sometimes Husband will look over at me with surprise and ask what’s wrong, but all I have to say now is, “I’m writing,” and he understands.

I’ve always loved to write. I’ve kept journals since I was 10 or 11 and my favorite genre to read is memoir. I’ve wanted to blog for a long time but I didn’t know what to say. When I decided to transcribe my journal last year, it made me think, as Hemingway said, “Write what you know.” I have tried to follow those words as much as I can because I believe that the best writing comes from the heart and we can only heartfully share that which we know ourselves. This blog is a collection of my truths. Not all of them, but as many as I can share with you. 

I noticed a few months ago that every time I sat down to write a blog post, I would cry. The things I write can be dark and they are very personal, so part it it comes with the territory. I’m writing about my mental health, which has not been the best. And I’ve been through some traumas in the last few years. Recalling these moments is difficult. Plus as someone with BPD my emotional skin isn’t very thick, so most things are only bubbling just below the surface.

It can be very cathartic. It’s nice to cry sometimes, like a release of psychic pressure that has been building up. It can be exhausting but it’s so worth it. I don’t like to cry a lot, so this has been a journey since I blog a lot and that means tears.

“Write what you know.” This may seem trite but I think it’s incredible advice. I have known love, loss, depression, suicidal days, joy, success, frustration, ambition. I know how to write about those things and I intend to keep writing about them.

I chose to blog about mental health because it is something I know a lot about, mainly since it has been the focus of my life for so many years. I’ve always wanted to write about mental health but, and this may sound terrible, I feel like I’ve finally been through enough to warrant talking about it. I have a story and it might be interesting to someone.

When I write I am telling my truth, as I know it, in that moment. This is probably why I end up crying so often. It is painful to tell one’s truth, especially if it has been filled with heartache and depression.

I write to stay sane. I write to examine my sanity. I write to consider others’ sanity. I write because it makes me feel like a whole person. But mostly I write because I have to.

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