The other day, my friend Sophia updated her twitter with “It’s amazing how being caged quiets my anxieties.”

I took a great pause when I read this and felt an instant kinship to what was said. I’ve been spinning into a long chain of thought that is still moving through me, searching for the point of origin that caused her sentiment to stab straight into my core.

I think of myself as being free, and needing to be free, to function. The concept of being caged makes my stomach churn and my talons protract. I’ll rip anyone’s throat out who tries. I’d probably fight so hard I’d break myself if someone did, actually, manage to fight me into a cage. I can feel my back lighting up just thinking about it.

Last winter, when I was dealing with one of the worst depressive episodes of my life, I talked about the internet, and wondered aloud if its existence as my main social avenue when I was young hindered or enabled my ability to interact with people. I was met with a visual, provided by my best friend, who said something to the effect that I’d hidden away somewhere dark and controlled and safe, and through the computer I reached out my hand to see who would take hold of it.

I’m frequently struck by the bravery in Sophia’s posts, how openly she talks about being vulnerable or scared, knowing how hard that is for me. I do it, but it’s often terrifying, I’m usually shaking and crying and imagining the intense, merciless judgement I’ll surely receive for having weakness. I just.. say it anyway.

That judgement never happens. It has never, ever happened. Even back in the days of phuqed, when I was a dumbshit kid blaming the entire world for everything that was wrong with my life, I have never been ripped into like I constantly expect to be when I’m all feared up, desperate and aching for someone to show me they know what I know.

It’s subsiding as I age, and yet, I still feel it, and I identify with that fear every time I conquer it — which is nearly always, now — and savor the relief when the support comes. I’m learning that I can count on that, that I can show these parts of myself in front of people, and even moreso — that if support doesn’t come, I can count on me.

This place is my cage when I need one. And I damn well like having it.

Thanks, Sophia.

(P.S. I just realized like 6 hours after posting this that the youtube video frame looks like… a cage. Wow.)