This is about rock bottom, recovery, and how to cope with lack of trust and ability to talk.
Telling the truth can get you somewhere.
Opening up, being vulnerable, showing the scars of self infliction can get you somewhere.
Speaking up got me put in the back of a cop car late at night on the word of worried friends.
Speaking up landed me in a 4 hour ER visit that didn't end until I felt so exposed I would swear I was naked.
Speaking up filled me with anger towards people who were only trying to help me. Only trying to do what they thought was best.
Speaking up, now, is not my thing.
Speaking up seems impossible. I don't want to feel that exposed ever again.
Sure, I go to therapy, but that is more of a chore with assignments being added on.
Someone tells me, you can talk to me and I feel the words at the tip of my tongue, but no sound comes out. Just a simple shaking of my head and an "I'm fine" even though we both know I'm not.
Do I want to die? No
Do I want to recover? Yes
So why can't I talk?
So why do I lie?
Where did my voice go?
The truth is here, written within ever scar I have and every shake of my head.
Why can't I speak?
Is it a trust thing?
Is it fear?
It it the fear of another cop car ride that could lead to a longer hospital stay next time?
Is it fear of vulnerability? Of honesty?
No, it can't be. I can't be afraid of the one thing I value most. Honesty is me.
I lost my mask a long time ago and I'm not interested in finding a new one.
I'm not interested in more lies to fill up the next year of my life as the have for the past seven.
I am interested in change.
I am interested in a renewed relationship with God.
I am interested in doing better for myself.
So why can't I talk?
Why can I not talk?
I know I need to, that's the only way to get better.
Sure I can talk to my therapist, but if I can never be honest or talk with full vulnerability to another person, what will that mean for my future?
You cannot have a relationship without honesty.
Not with God. Not with a partner. Not with a friend. Not even with yourself.
So, I ask the question again: Why can I not talk?
Maybe because it's time for me to write.
Right here and ow is the most open I've been in a while and it feels good, just like talking used to.
Maybe writing can be how I talk.
(Look Julia was right)
Maybe, just maybe, writing then letting someone read it and write me back is how I can talk again.
Honesty is easy on paper. Hard to lie when people can see crossed out words and eraser marks.
Writing is the most honest thing I know, it always has been.
I may not be able to answer the question of why I can't talk, or maybe I just did.
I have a new tool. One I can use guilt free and scar free.
A pencil and paper (or pen depending on the day).
I may not be able to talk, but I can always write.
I can write and when the time is right I can talk and share what I have written with those who need to hear it most. (And those I want to have hear it).