For comparing you to my dad.
Sometimes I really lack perspective.
Last year when covid hit Australia, I was scared.
Very very scared.
I was watching people die in China on these horrible videos and I didn’t know what to make of it.
I was panicking.
Then my dream job came to an end.
Because my company was also panicking.
They needed to show profits.
I get it.
So I lost my job.
And then lockdown hit.
So I was isolated and jobless.
I’m sure you can imagine what kind of thoughts this sensitive, anxious, over thinker had.
It wasn’t good.
I lost my shit.
I became very depressed and anxious.
More than normal.
I was lethargic, moody, challenging random social norms in my head and trying to find my purpose in life.
I was in a shit sandwich.
And you know who pulled me out of it?
My dream father figure reached out to me in one of my darkest times and asked if I wanted to help him in the lumber yard.
He then spoke with me about my childhood trauma I was reliving and told me how one day I would see my shit turn into gold.
I honestly didn’t believe him.
But here I am a year later and I’m actually seeing it.
I’m seeing my self care practices paying off.
I’m seeing my purpose in a whole new light now.
My purpose is to bring awareness to mental ill health through my writing.
And I’m doing that now.
And I’m doing it well.
And I’m proud of myself for the work I’ve put in and the shame I’ve overcome so far.
I’m really proud of myself guys.
Because this brain of mine is hard to live with some days, but it’s worth it.
Because if I save just one life from feeling alone, I know I’ll have fulfilled my purpose.
My older brother tried to kill himself when I was a kid.
I remember meeting him in the hospital and giving him silly putty to play with.
I remember my mom crying against his frail body beneath the hospital gown.
He was just a boy in my mind, but also my hero.
And I didn’t know then why he did it.
But now I know.
Approximately 87% of people who commit suicide have a mental illness.
Suicide is not selfish.
It is an escape for people who need help.
He was not weak.
He was scared.
And I’m so grateful he wasn’t successful.
But just because he lived doesn’t mean the conversation is over.
The suicide rate is going up and therefore the conversation around it also needs to go up.
I’m done pretending our world is fine.
We are not fucking fine.
We need help.
And we need awareness.
1. Inform them that thoughts of suicide are often linked to a treatable mental illness. This may instil a sense of hope in them.
2. Suicidal thoughts are common and do not have to be acted upon. The thoughts are often a plea for help and a desperate attempt to escape distressing feelings.
3. Encourage them to do most of the talking.
4. Do not attempt to solve their problems.
5. If you appear confident in the face of the suicide crisis, this can be reassuring for the person.
6. Although some people think that asking about suicide can put the idea in the person’s mind, this is not true.
From: Mental Health First Aid training
I was always afraid of who I would encounter, Jekyll or Hyde.
And now as an adult, I still don’t trust him or anyone.
I’m always wary.
Searching for the monsters in your closet.
I don’t believe anyone’s pure.
So show me your monsters before I find them myself.
When I was in high school, I took an art class. The class was full of chaos, but one thing I remember were the skulls.
We had to sketch the skulls and I remember immediately falling in love with them.
I didn’t see them as death.
I saw them as beginnings.
Beautiful, creepy beginnings.
And my mom hated them which made me love them more.
Like I said, rebellious weirdo.
But even now, I still love them.
Because the idea of death reminds me to live.
And don’t we need that reminder?
You wouldn’t know this by meeting me, but I struggle with anxiety and depression.
Funny, that statement, huh.
Like mental ill health has a look.
But so many assume it does.
They think, are you Eeyore or Tigger today?
Well, I’m neither and both.
And isn’t that confusing?
But the world is confusing!
That’s the thing.
We are not living in some binary world.
Our world and our feelings are perplex and alot of time paradoxical.
We can be both things at once.
We don’t have to choose sides.
And we don’t have to fit in a box.
We can feel everything and nothing and still be “normal”.