BE YOUR OWN VOICE

My Body Feels Like a Ticking Time Bomb

I don’t even know where to begin anymore.

I’m so physically exhausted that I don’t remember what it feels like to wake up and not immediately think about my health. Every morning starts the same way. Before my feet even touch the floor, I’m already taking inventory of my body. What hurts today? What’s different? What new symptom am I going to have to deal with? Is today going to be manageable, or is today going to be another day where my body completely takes over?

I’m so tired of living this way.

I feel defeated in a way I can’t even explain. Not because I don’t want to fight anymore, but because I honestly don’t know how much more my body can physically handle.

It feels like every time I finally catch my breath, life rips it away from me again.

Another doctor’s appointment.

Another procedure.

Another medication.

Another specialist.

Another phone call that changes everything.

Another diagnosis I never asked for.

I don’t even have time to process one thing before the next thing is crashing into me.

People see me smile. They hear me laugh. They tell me I’m strong.

What they don’t see is the moment I get home and completely fall apart. They don’t see me crying because I’m overwhelmed. They don’t see how terrified I am every single day. They don’t see the nights I lie awake wondering what my body is going to do next.

I’m constantly waiting for the next emergency.

The next complication.

The next surgery.

The next piece of bad news.

That’s not living.

That’s surviving.

And surviving is exhausting.

The truth is… I feel like I’m a ticking time bomb.

Like my body is counting down to the next thing that’s going to go wrong.

I don’t trust it anymore.

I don’t trust that I’ll wake up feeling okay.

I don’t trust that I can make plans without having to cancel them.

I don’t trust that I’ll get through the week without another setback.

It’s like my body has become something I don’t even recognize anymore.

I grieve the person I used to be.

I grieve the body that let me live instead of just survive.

I grieve the dreams I’ve had to put on hold because my health decided it had other plans.

Sometimes I look at myself and wonder, “When is enough… enough?”

How much can one body endure before it finally says, “I can’t do this anymore?”

Because that’s exactly how I feel.

Like I’m reaching my limit.

I’m angry.

I’m angry that my life revolves around medical appointments instead of memories.

I’m angry that I know more about hospitals than I ever wanted to.

I’m angry that my body has stolen so many moments I can never get back.

I’m angry that people look at me and think I’m okay simply because I don’t look sick.

I wish they could spend one day inside my body.

One day feeling the pain.

One day carrying the fear.

One day wondering if the next phone call is going to completely change their future.

Maybe then they’d understand why I’m so tired.

The hardest part isn’t even the pain anymore.

It’s the uncertainty.

It’s never knowing what tomorrow is going to bring.

It’s trying to make plans while wondering if my body is going to betray me again.

It’s constantly living in fear of what’s around the corner.

I don’t want my life to be measured by diagnoses, surgeries, medications, feeding tubes, procedures, and recovery times.

I want to know what it feels like to simply exist without constantly worrying about what’s happening inside my body.

I want one day where I don’t have to be strong.

One day where I don’t have to fight.

One day where I don’t have to pretend I’m okay when I’m breaking into a million pieces inside.

Because the truth is…

I’m not okay.

I’m hurting.

I’m exhausted in ways words can’t fully explain.

I feel like my body has become a battlefield, and every single day I’m expected to keep fighting a war I never chose.

I don’t know what tomorrow holds.

I don’t know what the next appointment is going to bring.

I don’t know what my body is going to do next.

I just know that tonight, I feel defeated.

I feel broken.

I feel scared.

And for the first time in a long time, I’m allowing myself to admit that I’m tired of pretending I’m not.

Sometimes a picture can say something that words never quite know how to explain.

When I look at this image, I don’t see a woman simply sitting there with her hands against her head.

I see someone overwhelmed.

I see someone trying to hold everything together while her mind is filled with thousands of thoughts that nobody else can hear.

Everywhere around her are words.

Thoughts.

Questions.

Memories.

Fears.

Things that were said.

Things that were never said.

Things she wishes she could take back.

Things she wishes she could forget.

And right in the middle of all of it, she’s still there.

That might be the part of this picture that hits me the hardest.

Because sometimes that’s exactly what life feels like.

Like your mind has become a room covered in writing, and every wall is screaming something different at you.

What if I’m not enough?

What if I disappoint everyone?

What if I never feel like myself again?

What if people get tired of me?

What if the person I used to be is gone?

What if I’m too much?

What if I’m not enough?

And the hardest part is that from the outside, nobody can see any of it.

They see you getting out of bed.

They see you smile.

They see you answer the phone.

They see you laugh.

They see you show up for the people you love.

They might even tell you, “You seem so strong.”

But they don’t see the pages inside your head.

They don’t see how exhausting it can be to constantly fight thoughts that nobody else knows are there.

I’ve spent so much time wondering why I can’t just turn my brain off.

Why I can’t simply stop thinking.

Why I can’t just be okay.

But maybe the goal was never to become someone who doesn’t have hard thoughts.

Maybe the goal is learning that my thoughts aren’t always the truth.

A thought can be loud without being right.

Fear can feel real without predicting the future.

And having a difficult day doesn’t mean I’ve failed.

I’m learning that I don’t have to solve my entire life in one night.

I don’t have to understand every chapter while I’m still living it.

I don’t have to pretend the pages aren’t messy.

Some pages are going to be beautiful.

Some are going to be painful.

Some will be covered in words I wish I’d never written.

And some will eventually become proof of how far I’ve come.

The woman in this picture looks overwhelmed by everything surrounding her.

But look closer.

She’s still there.

That’s what I want to remember about myself.

Even when my mind is loud.

Even when I’m exhausted.

Even when I don’t recognize myself.

Even when life feels like one giant unanswered question.

I’m still here.

Maybe I don’t need to erase all the words.

Maybe I just need to start writing new ones.

Words like hope.

Healing.

Worth.

Strength.

Tomorrow.

Again.

Me.

Because underneath all the noise, underneath every fear and every unanswered question, there is still a voice that belongs to me.

And I’m learning to listen for it.

Maybe that is what healing really looks like—not becoming the person I was before everything happened, but slowly discovering who I am after it all.

And maybe, one day, when I look back at these messy pages, I won’t see everything that broke me.

I’ll see everything I survived.

I’ll see the moments I thought I couldn’t keep going.

And I’ll realize that somehow…

Some days don’t look hard from the outside.

There are no casts, no obvious bruises, no visible proof of the battle happening beneath my surface. Just a quiet room, soft light, and a body that feels heavier than it should. A mind that’s tired in a way sleep doesn’t fix.

Living with invisible illness is a strange kind of contradiction. I look “fine,” so the world expects me to be fine. But inside, it’s a constant negotiation—between pushing through and falling apart, between explaining myself and staying silent because it’s exhausting to make people understand something they can’t see.

It’s the mental weight just as much as the physical. The guilt of canceling plans. The frustration of not being able to do what I used to. The quiet voice that wonders if people think I’m exaggerating. The loneliness of carrying something that doesn’t show up in pictures, but shapes every moment of my life.

And then there are moments like this—head down, eyes closed, stealing a second of rest wherever I can find it. Not because I’m lazy, but because my body is asking for something it desperately needs.

Invisible illness has taught me a different kind of strength. Not the loud, celebrated kind—but the quiet, persistent kind. The kind that gets me through the day when everything in me wants to stop. The kind that keeps going even when no one else notices.

I am not weak for needing rest.

I am not dramatic for feeling this deeply.

I am not “too much” for struggling with something others can’t see.

I am carrying something real.

And even on the days it doesn’t feel like it—I’m still here, still fighting, still showing up in whatever way I can.

And that has to count for something.

Writing this forced me to be honest about the parts I usually try to minimize. The mental exhaustion, the constant back an forth in my head push through or slow down. The guilt that creeps in when I can’t be everything I want to be for everyone.Writing this forced me to be honest about the parts I usually try to minimize.

The mental exhaustion.

The constant back-and-forth in my head—push through or slow down.

The guilt that creeps in when I can’t be everything I want to be for everyone.

The frustration of remembering who I used to be before my body started making its own rules.

There’s also this unspoken loneliness that comes with it. Not because I don’t have people who care—but because it’s incredibly hard to explain something that can’t be seen. I find myself choosing silence sometimes, not because I don’t want support, but because I don’t have the energy to translate my experience into something understandable.

But this piece also reminds me of something I don’t give myself enough credit for:

I’m still here.

Even in the quiet moments, like the one captured in this photo—when I have to pause, when my body demands rest, when everything feels like too much—I am still choosing to keep going. That kind of strength isn’t loud. It doesn’t get celebrated. But it’s real the frustration of remembering who I used to be before my body started making its own rules.

There’s also this unspoken loneliness that comes with it. Not because I don’t have people who care—but because it’s incredibly hard to explain something that can’t be seen. I find myself choosing silence sometimes, not because I don’t want support, but because I don’t have the energy to translate my experience into something understandable.

But this piece also reminds me of something I don’t give myself enough credit for:

I’m still here.

Even in the quiet moments, like the one captured in this photo—when I have to pause, when my body demands rest, when everything feels like too much—I am still choosing to keep going. That kind of strength isn’t loud. It doesn’t get celebrated. But it’s real.

These two pictures show that body is sick but Im still fighting everyday to show I don”t let my illnesses beat me down.

Not giving up—

just giving in

to the truth

I kept running from.

I am not too much.

I am not too broken.

I am not unfinished in the wrong way.

I am unfolding.

And surrender

is not losing control—

it’s trusting that I was never meant

to hold everything so tightly

in the first place

when I was wiring this poem I use to think that is Surender meant losing from having one in front the other. i mean I am in control how I want to fee or push my self through. I never thought to my self that I was failure cause I finally Surender to my emotions a sat with the. An I gave my self grace and time to heal and not hold on the past.

Monday , May 31st 2021 I attempted to end my life , if it wasn’t for the hikers who found me 20 more seconds I wouldn’t be writting this right now. I have been debating whether or not I should share this with everyone because let’s be honest, this is RAW. Nobody likes to talk about suicide. Even those who are suffering with suicidal thoughts or have suicidal ideation I’m forcing myself to share this so I can possibly help someone else. I am still alive and I know my purpose now.

It’s been 1,197 days I tried to take my own life. A lot can happen in since that day and to this day I fight the negative thoughts even if I am happy and smiling. . I have felt so many emotions, I have met so many new people.

There comes a moment where everything catches back up with you and you shutdown. You push people away. You lock yourself in your room for 4 days straight while driving yourself crazy with your own thoughts. You start to think “what’s the point of trying anymore” why the hell am I still. we all need to realize that not everyone is going to have the same out look on live meaning, mental health stuff going on at work honestly anything that is going on everyone’s life.

No one feels the same way that a different person deals with there emotions and sucidal thoughts or sucidal ideations. yes everyone can have anixety desperation and lastly they could go through similar post traumatic sitituions but every human being deals with it in a different way and that day.

That day I tried to take my own life was a big shock to me cause I am lucky enough not to be brain dead or paralyzed because I hung my self up in the mountains and took a lot of medicine. the result of my attempt I cause a minor stroke in my neck that to this day I still have problems with. I take that pain I feel physically and remind my self of that day I thought that was the answer but it truly wasn’t the answer because there is a reason to this day why I am still breathing an talking and most important I am walking.

I know its hard to open up to someone physical aspect but I know that these days people use there phones more so. you can download an app called SAFEUT. you can talk to a social worker and just vent about your day even if your not suicidal just need to vent and have a break for couple mins or how ever long you need. or you can call the hotline 988 and they will help you in everyday possible for your needs.

you can always reach out to me by email brook0027@gmail.com and I will help you the best I can I know from personal experience talking to someone who has struggled and personally been on the other side of the motions helps me and maybe I can be your advocate cause its sometimes hard to find your own voice and stand up for your self. for hell sakes its taken since I was 13 years old to build up the courage to use my voice and stand tall and be heard and not back down cause those are my emotions an feelings and struggles and trails.

xoxo-brooklyn

Panic pulled her under the water depression held her deeper an deeper under the water until her lungs were on fire her vision was filled with black she was drowning she was fighting to not drown but her fighting made her panic even more it was strange and unexpected but SHE LIVED. A because she didnt give up even though she didnt have the strength to she realized that there is a purpose for her even though it didnt feel like it at the time. even though her lungs were on fire she took that pain she was feeling emotionally and physically she put her hand over her wrist and could feel her strong heart beak even though she thought she wasn’t going to survive. every other beat of heart beat she tried to push harder even though she was so exhausted because she knew once the panic was over she would finally breath again and not feel the fire in her lungs. she kept telling her self these feelings and emotions were only temporary she may feel them again but every time she experienced them it was different every time and she used that strength and knowledge to keep her above water every time she felt like the panic would just drown her and there was no way out. But that’s where she was wrong cause she challenged her black and white thinking errors. Its truly okay to feel like your deafted and your never going to come out of the panic that’s what makes her emotionally mentally and physically stroneger but there’s no time limit to fight this in her mind. she is in control and it has taken her 13 years to build of the courage to fight it all. DON’T GIVE UP ON YOURSELF. This girl is me and im making adjustments every second and hour of the day to improve my self.

xoxo-brooklyn

The past few months I’ve been going back and forth on whether or not I should start blogging again, and every time the thought came to my head I had a feeling I needed to get back at it. So I am back to give this another go, I have felt so out of place and so lost this past little while. well actually a year or so or even longer. And this was my one place to go to express myself,  heal and help others through similar personal experience’s. And I am back with no going back to the past but going onward , I started this blog to help others and to grow and heal along side of you. And recently I had someone very close to me come to me for help. It broke my heart hearing them express some of the things that they were feeling. But it also gave me comfort in knowing they felt like I was a safe place to go. And sometimes that’s all someone needs is a safe place, where they can express how they are feeling without judgemment, someone to open their heart and ears to them. SO hopefully by me being vulnerable about my life an my choices and struggles. others that are reading this can use this as a safe place or somewhere to find peace and insight in there hecktic day to day lifes. To be honest everybody has shitty days an emotions good or bad so be vulnerable with me an let your voice be heart you write your own story not any body else.

life challenges aren’t suppose to paralyze you they’re suppose to help discover who you really are. 

The past week I have been thinking about my past trials an how I thought I would always be paralyzed an stuck in the past but. I’m not paralyzed granted I still have bumps in the road that makes me feel like I am but I can move every muscle and joint and bone in my body. I had a doctor once tell me that when you’re on so much medicine that your brain plays tricks on you that it has to rely on the medicine when in reality the best medicine is when you know that you can say to your self that you need to. I need to take 5 second and breath and say I’m okay.

“Stephen hawking”- stated when he was asked about his disability he states that the victim should have the right to end his or her life, if he wants but I think it would be a great mistake however bad life may seem there is always something you can do and succeed at. He also compared black holes to depression making it clear that neither of the black whole or depression are impossible to escape. Black holes aren’t as black as they’re painted they’re not the external an internal prisons they were once though. Emotions thoughts or anything can get out of a black hole both on the outside and possibly to another universe. so if you feel you are in a black hole don’t give up find new ways to get out.

Personally I have been in a black hole and I thought to my self how am I supose to get my self out of this. physically and mentally where do I even begin there’s so many mixed emotions and feelings. one thing I have learned is you can’t freak out and lose your mind because. That does the opposite effect it makes he black hole even bigger. so take 5 seconds and breath in. As you breathe in focus on your breathing. Put one had on your chest and other hand on your stomach and feel how when you’re breathing. The diaphragm going in an out slow and holding it in for 5 seconds then breathing it out for 10 seconds. by doing this you come more aware of your body and aren’t so paralyze and you climb your way out of the black hole.

xoxo-brooklyn

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Being told you are strong can be deceiving at times because sometimes people don’t know what you’re going through. People ask me how am I able to do what I do, How are you surviving? How do you have a smile on your face when things are not going good. Hell, I don’t know how to truly answer that. I never knew I could be this strong, not until I had to mentally and physically push my self. I have to fight the daily hurdles and battles. So what does being strong really mean to you?

It’s being broken, and sad, yet you have days when you’re smiling cause you’re being strong cause you don’t want to show you’re being weak. But it’s honestly okay to show the sides that your not happy and struggling cause that shows. The true strength and how strong are and how you use your voice and advocate for yourself.

It’s learning how to control your unstable thoughts and emotions and remaining as positive as possible. It is okay to be broke on the inside, for me I have endured extreme amounts of suffering. But I refuse to give up yes I have my off days where I just wanna cry and that’s okay. I learned to push all the negative thoughts to surface and alter my mindset.

It’s about how we react to challenges you’re faced with. Being strong is not easy in fact it can be very mentally and emotionally draining there are days where all I want to do is lay in bed. When I have those days I try to challenge myself to face head on, or write what’s going on in my head so I can process what’s going on. That helps me to pin point its okay not to be strong its the fact that you recognize what’s going on. that you’re growing and becoming mentally an emotionally stronger.

Hi, I’m Brooklyn and you are currently reading my first post of my blog. I started this blog because I want people who are struggling with anything in their life, to know they have a voice, and they don’t need to be scared. Hopefully with the experiences and difficulties I have endured in my life this may also be a lending hand for those who are going through something similar. Even if no one reads this, I know this will help me look back and see how far I have come while dealing with trails and struggles.

I was diagnosed with severe depression 12 years ago. I’ve also been diagnosed with anxiety, bipolar, postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS), pseudo seizures ( PNES), post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) , & anorexia/bulimia. It’s a constant battle,. Every day is challenging in one way or another. I had a lot of traumatic events happen to me in my past, such as mental and physical abuse, rape, death of loved ones, betrayal, & a lot of negative people and influences in my life. I was in a very dark place, and resorted to self harm, multiple suicide attempts, and alcohol; all trying to escape the pain.

overall this is not about feeling bad for myself, or having others feel bad for me. I want to use my experiences to help better the lives who are struggling that happen to come across my blog. i am always a listening ear, i will not judge you, i will always help no matter what; that being said, I created an email that is dedicated just to your responses/reach out (it is linked on the main page). I hope you can use this as a tool in your successful recovery!

xoxo – Brooklyn