what i’ve been through is hard to hear. suicide, psychiatric hospitals, panic attacks, antipsychotics and depression are heavy topics to discuss. you might feel uncomfortable. i can tell you don’t know what to say.
but you want to say something.
you fumble around and land on advice, but i don’t need it. and if i do i will ask for it. i don’t need you to point out the positives in my life or list things i should be thankful for. i already hold on tight to those glimmers of hope, shimmering in my darkness. don’t tell me to keep my chin up or look on the bright side. getting through each day is the best i can do right now and it’s not something i can celebrate. i don’t need you to tell me about someone else you know who has a mental health problem. the weight of my own is enough to carry. i don’t want you to tell me that time heals all things. i don’t know what that means.
but most of all, most of all, don’t tell me it’s ok when it’s not. i am in a painful place, a dark place. i can’t pretend my way out of it. this is my reality. you know and i know that it’s not ok.
better than any advice, any cliché, any story is your understanding. plain and simple. acknowledge my pain. ask me what i need. listen to me. allow time for silence. sit beside me in my suffering. let me cry. love me, meet me where i am. tell me you are here with me, walking this road by my side.
right now the greatest gift you can give me is your loving affirmation that it, indeed, is not ok.