*TRIGGER WARNING*

I noticed in October of 2020 I didn’t write anything in my journal. Very unusual. This large gap was because I was too scared to face myself. It was terrifying to write about what was happening in my internal and external world. I was not ready to make it real - because that’s what writing does, makes you face it head on. 

This month in time I had a lot going on, here’s a glimpse …

• I returned to a toxic relation that was emotionally, mentally, and sexually abusive.

• I was fully responsible for the physical and financial care of myself, my mother, and my grandmother in Los Angeles.

• It was a year anniversary after being placed on an involuntary 72-hour hold at a psychiatric hospital (5150) because I was suicidal.

• I was heavily binge drinking and had an unhealthy relationship with weed; especially blunts.

• Society was in the midst of a global pandemic.

• Every day was a struggle to survive mentally and physically.

All I knew was associating pain with love. I was confused. Getting manipulated and taken advantage of was often for me. I knew I wanted to grow and heal, but I still didn’t understand how to navigate my life. I found myself in the shadows again.

Rewind to October of 2019; the year of my involuntary 5150 hold. My life was so dark back then that I was contemplating if jumping off the balcony or shooting myself would be the easiest way to leave this life. I was done; ready to exit the game. Deep down I knew I had more life left to live (I give thanks to God), but that didn’t stop the intensity of the intrusive thoughts. I would have daily fantasies about what it would be like to kill myself. I was ready to say fuck it all. The worst part was that all the fantasies circled back to, “what would be the easiest way for my family to deal with my death.” I was so numb at the time I didn’t even understand what death would mean for me.

I came home from the club one night and completely blacked out. All I remember is pushing my mother away from me, throwing my shoe through my closet, putting on my robe, and going to sleep. I woke up to cops handcuffing me in my bed, telling me to put clothes on and rushing me out of my apartment. I was escorted in the back of a police car straight to the hospital with no explanation. It wasn’t until my admission that I was told I lost my rights. I had no choice but to be sent straight to a psychiatric hospital. Those three days in the ward showed me that I never wanted to be in that position again. It sparked a flame deep within me to stand up and fight.

October 2019 is when my true healing journey started. Although I was introduced to mental health, holistic healing, and spirituality before 2019 - this was the moment it actually clicked for me. This was the moment I realized I wanted to live; that I loved my life no matter how fucked up it was. I knew I had to figure out how to turn my life around because entrapment was not an option. I needed to free myself mentally and physically.  

Back to October of 2020 … needless to say, it was a frightening time for me. All of a sudden I found myself reliving the past I was running away from so desperately. A year later, still struggling with many of the same issues that caused my 5150 as the year before. Anniversaries carry weight. Something about a certain time of the year can trigger old experiences, emotions, and ways of being. And that’s okay. Sensitive subjects require mighty grace.

This was the first truly intimate thing I shared in Diaries of an Empath. Why? Because someone out there needs to know : you are not alone in this experience no matter how lonely it may feel at times. Many of us have experienced similar pain and trauma. Please reach out for help if you need it. Call the hotline (dial 988). Talk to someone, anyone. When you think there is no way out - there is always another way.

Be direct and truthful about what is happening within your mind … silent cries are not heard in a world filled with noise.

I love you.

If you have ever lost a loved one to suicide, my deepest condolences.