I remember those days when I was trapped in the cycle of thoughts that shout. Shout loudly. Too loudly. I will never forget those days when the flood of my tears watered the paper. Tears, the ink of anguish. My mind was a battleground with demons incessantly rebuking my flaws and mistakes. The rushing wind residenced in my soul and the mighty storm craved an angel to breathe the knot of my thoughts. As if there is no safe space, no inner peace. I would kneel begging God to save me. To pick me up from the depths of despair that persecuted me. My inner child anxiously sobbed, silently crying out for attention and love. I feared that my deepest worry of being abandoned would go unheard. I felt a desperate yet silent voice escaping my lips and crying for help. For years, I fought this barbaric battle alone. Trapped by the invisible enemy in a storm of anxiety and depression, each day I struggled to find the reason and strength to keep going. Indeed it was overwhelming since I saw no world beyond this darkness. The demons clouded my vision. I was drowning And one fateful day, I reached the bottom. The breaking point. My friends were helplessly watching me spiraling further into my abyss. I heard the angel, silently whispering to my ear: ask for help. With a trembling voice and heart palpitations, I admitted they were right and agreed to an in-patient treatment facility. It was my last hope… Dear Diary, I cannot stress enough how grateful and proud I am for overcoming these demons. I wish no one ever has to meet them. I never want to see them again. The first days of treatment were the hardest. I felt exposed and vulnerable. But it was there, amid my brokenness and emptiness, that I began to find hope. Hope that this is temporary. Hope that my tomorrow will be better than today. Therapy is intense, it often brings me to tears. Confronting the darkest corners of my mind is a real battle. But now I am not alone. I am not alone… Facing my traumas feels like drawing again but, surprisingly, it feels like a weight lift off my shoulders. I learned to speak up and verbalize my pain. Express it. Now I finally see that there are people around me who genuinely care. I vowed myself to love and cherish the little girl within me. To be a source of comfort and strength she needed. But most importantly, I learned to forgive myself. That moment was a focal point, a shift in my thinking. It was when my life started changing. I started rebuilding my life. I let the guilt and shame that weighed me down go. I realized that my struggles do not define me. I was not broken, I was simply on a journey to healing and self-discovery. I am journaling not as a cured person but as someone in the process of health. Nevertheless, I am sure I will succeed since I am learning the strategies to cope with reality. My story is one of hope and resilience. And persistence. Today I testify that there is the light beyond the darkness. And, to anyone who is fighting their own battles, know that you do have the strength. You really do. You are stronger than you realize. And the demons within you do not define who you are. Seek help, reach out, and never give up on yourself. The healing journey is difficult but this toil is worthy. You are worthy. And precious. You may not believe me now but there is a better tomorrow. The brighter future. I promise that life, a healthy life, is more beautiful than you ever imagined. With love, Marysia