Journal Entry # 3: Today’s the Day
I Let the Past Out Into the Light
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In mid‑May, I’ll be sharing my story on a podcast called Suicide Sucks. Even typing that feels surreal. There’s something about seeing the words in front of me that makes everything sharper, more real, more immediate. Nineteen years of silence doesn’t loosen just because you decide it’s time it resists, it tightens, it shakes something deep before you’ve even spoken a word. It’s as if the past has its own stubborn grip, and letting go isn’t as simple as choosing to. It’s a process. A slow, uncomfortable, necessary unraveling.
I won’t pretend I’m taking it in my stride. I’m bricking it. There’s a particular kind of fear that comes with opening a door you’ve kept locked for most of your life. It’s not only the memories it’s the vulnerability, the honesty, the possibility of being seen in a way I’ve avoided for nearly two decades. It’s the thought of saying something out loud that I’ve only ever said in my own head. It’s the worry that speaking it will make it too real… and the quiet hope that maybe that’s exactly what needs to happen.
Because beneath the fear, there’s a pull. A sense that it’s time. Time to stop carrying something that was never meant to be held alone. Time to stop pretending the weight didn’t shape me. Time to finally put it down, even if I have to unclench my fingers slowly, one by one. There’s a strange kind of relief in admitting that you’re tired tired of holding it, tired of hiding it, tired of letting it echo in every quiet moment. Tired of the silence being the only version of the story that ever gets told.
I’m doing this because maybe my story will help someone else feel less isolated. Maybe someone who’s been holding their own silence for far too long will hear it and realize they’re not the only one. Maybe it’ll reach someone who needs to know that surviving doesn’t always look neat or heroic sometimes it just looks like getting through the next day. But I’m also doing it for me. I’ve carried this for long enough. I’ve lived with the shadow of it in ways I rarely admit, and I’m ready or as ready as I’ll ever be to let some of that weight go.
Saying yes was the first step. Writing this is the second. Speaking it into a microphone will be the third. And after that… who knows. Maybe the world won’t end. Maybe the sky won’t fall. Maybe I’ll feel lighter, even if only by a fraction. None of it feels easy, but all of it feels necessary. There’s something about naming the moment that makes it real, and maybe that’s the point to stop letting the past stay unspoken, to stop letting silence do all the talking.
When the episode is out, I’ll share it. For now, this is me acknowledging the shift the crack in the silence, the moment the weight finally moved, even if only slightly. A small shift, but a real one. And after nineteen years, that’s enough.
If you want to get a sense of the podcast, here’s the link:
https://open.spotify.com/show/4lMWJtGSy0EzMyXNHQj7Ja