I wrote another social norm-breaking thing about mental health that is also kinda long

A few weeks ago, I wrote a blog post titled This is my Not Suicide Letter. Whether or not you read it or had an opinion on it is completely up to you, and since then I've had an overwhelming number of people reach out to me either with how my letter affected them or to support me despite not understanding. I'm generally aware of others and the reactions and perceptions they both proudly display and, more interestingly, hide, so I knew that posting something so blatantly honest will always generate opinions different than my own. I won't call them unwarranted or unsolicited because no writer or user of social media and freedom of speech should be closed to independent thought, especially in response to his or her own independent thought. And as a bleeding-heart liberal hippie, I welcome those different opinions as a challenge and a lesson as long as those opinions are respectful to human dignity and individuality.

However, I don't think I was prepared for how overwhelming the internet's reaction would be. At first I didn't know how to adequately respond to every person that confronted me with the empathy or attention or honesty they deserved. I didn't know how to listen to their stories and have my ADHD thoughts be enough. As time went on, I became increasingly aware of simple acknowledgments, especially"shares," that were a very tangible reminder of the point of my letter--that so many people suffer quietly and alone; and of course there were other, more passive aggressive opinions from people whose names I've never even heard. And as if telling your deepest, darkest secrets to the world isn't scary enough, seeing how far those secrets reach and accepting that every person will have an opinion I have no control over is nothing short of absolutely terrifying. But the point of this post isn't to explain myself or retract the things I said or apologize to anyone. (Lolol do you know me at all?)

My Not Suicide Letter is, in essence, the most raw illustration of who I am. And when I say that, I'm not referring to depression. I am not mental illness. I'm also not despite mental illness or overcoming mental illness. I am just everything that I've got and everything that I give. I'm blatantly honest all of the time, and I want everyone to understand themselves the way I understand them because I think life is hard enough without lying to others and lying to ourselves. Sometimes I'm stupid and it backfires, and sometimes I hurt people I care about, and honestly I still have a hell of lot of figuring out how to be the best version of myself, so thank God I'm only twenty and can use that as an excuse for being a hot mess.

It's been almost a month since I wrote to tell you that I'm severely depressed with suicidal tendencies that terrify me and everyone around me.

I know. Still as shocking the second time you read it. Truthfully, it's shocking no matter how many times you read it (...don't ask me for that number). I'm also a writer, a speaker and a listener. I'm a leader, an activist, a feminist, an artist, an over-analyzer, a six-year-old and sometimes a pain in the ass. I want to do everything and learn everything and discuss everything and live everywhere and experience every ounce of beauty in this world. And I love life. I think that one is especially important because I did just tell the world I've been depressed for six years and have been suicidal for large chunks of that time. But I love life. I love it precisely because of its infinite complexity and variety. I love the beauty and ugliness of the world, and I love that every person knows at least one thing I don't. I hope that every day for the next 70 years I find at least one thing that fascinates me (which is not that hard because I am six and literally get distracted by shiny objects and fluffy things).

I am not my mental illness. I want to achieve everything I just said even on days when that's just not possible for me. I told the world about my battle a month ago, and I'm still here. I didn't go anywhere, and I'm not shoving it back under my bed. I don't expect everyone to pretend it didn't happen because it's real, and I'm still fighting it everyday. I promised you that I would hold myself accountable to every other person wanting to give up. And you may not understand why that's enough for me, but that's because it's my battle. Depression and anxiety manifest in very specific ways universally, and there are very general ways to treat them both. But at some point you realize that you can't avoid yourself anymore and that the things you've been through that you've been ignoring aren't going away from wishing, hoping, coping, or (prescribed or self) medication. I'm not going to tell you that stupid, frustrating cliche about "happiness starting from within" or "you're the only person who can control your happiness" or whatever people tell you when they don't understand or know what to say. I'm not gonna do that because I can't. Because no one knows your experience, and no one ever will.

What I am going to tell you is that everything, not just happiness, starts from within. And the depression or anxiety or stress or insecurities or whatever you've got going on, it is all in your head. *gasp, she said something ignorant and insensitive* I didn't because it is exactly in your head. But no matter how many times you've been told to control it, you can't because how in the hell are you supposed to control the organ that runs our entire existence? I promise you aren't aware of most of the things that go on in there. And on your own, you can't be. I've tried, and it makes a confusing mess of everything. But thankfully there are some really smart people in the mental health field who get it even more than you do and certainly more than the people around you do.

I wrote my Not Suicide Letter because I realized that my sense of responsibility to everyone and everything is my biggest weapon against a disease whose biggest weapon is silence. I wrote it to be a voice against that silence. I wrote it hoping that my courage might help anyone suffering in silence find their own courage to speak. Honestly, I wrote it because I've watched something that sucks--the antiquated mental health stigma--take root in our society, and I just want to change the world. Even if it's just one person's world, it's their whole world and that's all they get. Because our worlds collide with other people's worlds every day, but they're still separate worlds. And my friends and I may think on the same wavelength, but my world needs to be nurtured in a completely different way than theirs and creates completely different wonders than theirs.

So, I hope that my first letter gave at least one of you courage, and I hope it gave those outside of the disease some sort of insight--with which, do what you will. This time I hope that if you take one thing from my rambling, mental illness or not, you consider the idea that your world will collide almost constantly with all of the people in your life, but you can't possibly compare your world to theirs. It's a waste of energy, a waste of time and frankly, irrelevant. Each person needs to find a different way to fight their monsters. You are you, and it's nobody's job to figure out how to live with you but your own. We all have to put out our own fires, and that is the most important thing in your world. Writing a blatantly honest blog post may not be how you put out that fire. "Just not thinking about" the bad stuff may not work for you either. You're the only person who can figure out what you need, and you can only fight your own monsters.

Today is World Suicide Prevention Day. It comes and goes every year, and very brave people tell their stories or make a vocal declaration of support for those who feel like they are losing the battle. But the fact is, that's just not enough. The individuals suffering enough to consider ending their lives, and those we've lost already, don't need one day of bravery. We need an open conversation. Frankly, we need an attitude and a reality check.

So this year I want to do it a little differently. I'm just one tiny (literally, I'm 5'1") person, and what I say may not make the kind of changes I plan to make, but this conversation is important enough to try. I want to challenge every person who has had suicidal thoughts or is even just sad and alone and afraid to talk to at least one person. Fight that weapon of silence because I promise that it does nothing but make you feel alone when you aren't. And to every person who doesn't understand or agree with or believe in the gravity of mental illness and/or the complexity of suicide, I want to challenge you to consider that a person suffering is the only person best equipped to fight their monsters, and you only matter in that fight if you play whatever role they need.

One day a year where the words "mental illness," "depression," "suicide," et al. are not taboo is just not enough. A fraction of those suffering making a gut-wrenching decision to face judgment is not enough. Your friends, mothers, sisters, uncles, classmates, coworkers and significant others spending all of their energy every day to hide a darkness and emptiness that already takes everything from you is not enough. Not wanting to deal with the reality and truth of mental illness around you because it makes you uncomfortable is not enough. Not for the thousands of years and experiences unlived and not for the thousands an inch away from the cliff. So I say no.