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The Thud By BigmommaJ

> “Even in the fall, there’s a lesson in the landing.”

This piece came from one of my darker moments — a place of exhaustion, loneliness, and deep emotional pain. Writing has always been my release, my way of making sense of the chaos within. Sometimes, I write what I can’t bring myself to say out loud.

If you’ve ever felt too tired to keep going, too broken to stand, or too unseen to be heard — this is for you. You are not alone in your fall, and you are not the only one yearning for peace.

The Thud

There are mornings I don’t want to wake up anymore. Not because I’ve given up, but because I’m tired — tired in a way that sleep can’t fix. Tired of pretending I’m okay when everything inside of me aches for peace.

I’ve learned there’s a difference between wanting to die and being too tired to live. One is a wish for escape. The other is a cry for stillness — a desperate need for the pain to stop echoing through your soul.

Peace. That’s all I ever wanted. Not the kind that sits in quiet rooms, but the kind that silences the war inside — the one that keeps you questioning your worth, your purpose, your will to keep going.

Sometimes the pain gets so deep that I stop feeling it. I move through my days numb, detached, watching life unfold around me like I’m not really a part of it. Then, without warning, I fall — emotionally, mentally, spiritually.

And when I fall, I hit the ground with a thud.

People see it, maybe even hear it. But they keep walking. Not because they don’t care — sometimes they just don’t know what to do with another person’s pain. Still, it hurts. It hurts to be visible enough to be noticed but invisible enough not to matter.

I lay there — tongue-tied, exhausted, and broken — whispering to myself, “Why couldn’t I have just died?”

That’s the kind of honesty we don’t like to say out loud, isn’t it? The kind that makes others uncomfortable. But it’s real. It’s human. It’s the truth of what it feels like when the weight within becomes too heavy to carry.

I’ve been tired of falling.
Tired of surviving when I no longer feel alive.
Tired of carrying a burden that never seems to ease.

But in the stillness — somewhere between surrender and survival — a small whisper stirs: “You’re still here.”

And maybe that means something. Maybe peace doesn’t come from the absence of pain, but from learning to breathe through it. Maybe surviving another day is its own quiet victory.

If you’re reading this and you’ve fallen too — if you’ve hit the ground so hard that you can’t see the point in standing back up — I want you to know something:

You are not alone.
You are seen, even when the world feels blind.
And there is still a reason your heart keeps beating.

One day, that thud won’t be the sound of your fall — it will be the sound of you grounding yourself, rebuilding yourself, and finally finding peace within.

If you or someone you know is struggling, please reach out.
In Canada, you can call or text 988 (Suicide Crisis Helpline) for free, 24/7 support.
You matter. Your story matters. And there is hope — even here.

Author’s Note

I wrote this piece during a moment when I felt completely lost — when the weight of everything I’d been carrying felt too heavy to hold. Writing became my way of releasing the ache I couldn’t speak out loud.

If you’ve ever felt like that too — please know, you are not weak for feeling tired. You are not broken for wanting peace. You are human. And even in your darkest moments, you are worthy of healing, love, and light.

Keep holding on, even if it’s only by a thread.
Because one day, you’ll look back and realize — that thread was stronger than you ever knew.

— With love and understanding,
BigmommaJ
#MentalHealth #loveyourself

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I'm new here!

Hi, my name is Alouiselynn. I'm here because I’m almost 40 and I am realizing that I literally have no one to really trust or count on. I’ve always been everyone else’s support system and it’s never reciprocated. The patterns don’t lie, so I find myself in a really lonely place. It’s causing fear and the feeling of being trapped or sometimes claustrophobic. Anyone else know what I mean and can offer some support? I would really appreciate it! :-)

#MightyTogether

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No love left

No one in my life loves or care about me. All it takes is me experiencing hardship and there is no support system. #lonely #SelfharmRecovery

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No love left

No one in my life loves or care about me. All it takes is me experiencing hardship and there is no support system. #lonely #SelfharmRecovery

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I'm new here!

Hi, my name is SmileySmiles9228. I'm here because I'm tired of brushing off feelings of hopelessness and being lonely thinking as if at any second life will change and I won't be sick with multiple sclerosis anymore!! Ass well as if my depression, anxiety and bipolar will disappear!! Unfortunately, ask I'm doing is sinking myself into more depression!! Until NOW!! NOW I am looking for help to feel better!!

#MightyTogether #Anxiety #Depression #BipolarDisorder #MultipleSclerosis

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Why a PMDD group?

During my PMDD week, I shift into feeling like a different person. My emotions all become too big - I once described it as feeling like I'm turning into the Incredible Hulk. Along with a rage toward any perceived slights (even toward those I love dearly), I can feel paranoid that people are purposely ignoring me, out to get me, pushing my buttons. I also feel a deep sadness and loneliness. I worry that I am going crazy and that there is no way to articulate my experience to those who do not live with this once a month. It's all mentally and physically exhausting. Of course, once my PMDD week is over I go back to my usual self who gets along with people, is easy-going and calm, and can easily empathize with others. It's as though all the connection suddenly rushes back to me. There are times, however, where I'm left with shame or guilt for staying away from people (in an effort to not say or do something I would regret).

Sometimes it feels like it would be comforting to have a small haven on the internet where you can go and share those thoughts and feelings with people who will offer compassion and understanding rather than wondering what in the world you are talking about, or thinking that you are just exaggerating. For those of us who live with PMDD, we understand that these symptoms can change our ability to function and how we view the world. We all deserve to have that kind of space and compassion. If you are out there and relate to what I am talking about, welcome. I would love to hear from you. This is our place to come together and connect.

(edited)
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A tormented soul consumed by loneliness and dark desires

There is a monster lurking within my, following my every waking move, one I dare not fully unleash, yet it stirs with cruel intent. It longs to the see the worlds of those who bathe in the love of one another shatter, slowly and irreparably. To watch their hearts fracture, to suffocate them into a spiral of madness as profound and infinite as my own. Not out of mercy, but for the soul act of serving a spiteful gift to God, that He may feel the sting of pain piercing the souls He so favors. This is not the man I am, but the agony of isolation has torn me to shreds, leaving only traces of raw survival instincts - and whilst others bask in love’s warm embrace, I am abandoned, forgotten. Why me?

I have strived—oh, how I have strived—to rise above this darkness, to be better, kinder, whole. But what comfort has this brought me? Nothing but the cold embrace of an unwelcoming misery and the cruel spectacle of a show flourishing the love of others, whilst my own heart withers, unattended, forsaken. All I crave is release—death, a final refuge from this relentless ache. I am tired. More tired than words can bare. I do not care anymore. f only I were strong enough to welcome that reprieve, but strength eludes me still. So here I linger— alone, unseen, a ghost amongst god's perfect creations those who live the dreams that are forever barred to me.

What am I to do? I will never be enough—never deserving, never chosen, never loved. I am destined to walk this barren path alone until the end while His favorites delight in what I can never possess. A part of me burns to hate Him, this cruel deity and the world He fashioned—but my fragile humanity restrains that fury, shackles my bitterness. What monstrous flaw makes me unworthy? Is there no end to this torment? Sometimes, in the stillest moments, I pray for the cold reprieve of never waking to arrive swiftly, merciful in its finality.

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The ache of solitude in a world enamored with love

As I remain trapped within these cold, unforgiving walls of this wretched college, I am tormented ceaselessly by those who find comfort in the arms of their beloved - those who possess the one soul meant for them. And I? I remain cursed, a hollow shadow with no counterpart. What monstrous imperfection dwells within me, so vile that I am condemned to this boundless desolation? Is there no reprieve from this torment? Am I fated to endure this cruel loneliness until the bitter end of my days here, or worse, find a cold comfort in death's embrace—a mercy for which I am yet to be deemed worthy?

Each passing second gnaws at what little strength I have, fracturing what was once whole. A soul once like fractured glass now reduced to mere dust—transparent yet tarnished. I remain forever trapped in this endless dispair. What cruel cosmic jest allows others to bask in love’s warmth while I shiver in the void of abandonment? Have I become some grotesque aberration, unworthy of even the simplest kindness, let alone love?

No matter how fiercely I fight, no matter the countless sacrifices or fountains of tears I shed or the hopes my soul clentches to, everything falls just short. I tremble in the shadow of my harsh truth, that I may never be enough, that I may never be the one who fulfils another's soul.Wearied beyond words, I dwell in this private inferno, dreading change because hope itself is a blade that cuts deeper with each disappointment. Is this not the madness—insanity—that binds me? To hope, to yearn, to plead, yet receive only the hollow echo of despair.

That begs one question, how does one's heart undo the souls desire of belonging? How does a soul abolish one's desperate desire to be loved, to be chosen, to be valued —when that is the very essence of one’s existence?

Is my salvation found only in severing the ties of emotion, in becoming a wraith unburdened by desire? Or am I doomed to linger, endlessly yearning… endlessly alone?

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