We need to have a real conversation about mental health
Please allow me the space to step on my soapbox for this email…I promise that news will return in the next edition.
Before you read: I appreciate any kind words or concerns, but I kindly ask that you don’t reply or reach out to me directly. This is still fresh, and I’m focusing on working through it one step at a time. Thank you for understanding.
We talk a lot about mental health these days—about “breaking the stigma,” about being mental health “champions” or “warriors” and sharing information (links or phone numbers) for support.
While those things are helpful, the real conversations we need are much deeper and more personalized. The conversations we should be having are about how we show up for the people in our lives—especially when they are struggling.
It’s about learning to stand beside someone when they feel broken and overwhelmed, even when we don’t have all the answers. Because real support doesn’t look perfect, but it makes a world of difference.
Recently, I found myself in a place I never expected to be.
My mental health took a turn that scared me, and I realized I couldn’t handle things on my own.
Opening up about it was not easy—I’ve always been selective about who I let into those vulnerable spaces.
However, I believed I had found people in my life who were intentional, thoughtful and kind. Having no other option, I decided to reach out to them, making myself incredibly vulnerable.
To be honest, it took everything in me to ask for help.
But instead of receiving support, I was met with responses that were disheartening.
I was told that, while my situation was sad, they did not want to help. Hearing that from people I trusted was deeply painful. They did not want to make space for my urgent moment of need.
It left me feeling abandoned and more isolated than I already felt.
I know people are not always equipped to support others in the ways we might hope, but the rejection stung deeply—especially because I wasn’t looking for solutions or grand gestures. I just needed them to be there, to be present.
It’s difficult to describe how much courage it took for me to actually reach out, and having that met with indifference was a blow I was not prepared for.
The truth is, those rejections further amplified my struggles.
Those rejections allowed me to see that if I wanted out of this dark place, I had to believe in the only person I trusted.
Me.
I knew I had to find another way forward.
I sought out a therapist to help me make sense of everything I was experiencing. It’s been a tough process, but it’s also been a necessary one.
Therapy has given me a space to unpack not just the events that led me here (and there are plenty), but the emotions I’ve carried for a long time (and there are plenty).
As I navigate what healing looks like, I’m also grappling with the relationships that let me down. I’m not sure where those connections will go from here.
Maybe they’ll heal with time—or maybe they won’t.
Right now, I’m trying to give myself permission to sit with that uncertainty. It’s part of the process, and I’m trying to learn to be okay with that. (Heavy emphasis on trying in both lines.)
I’m sharing all of this because I know I’m not alone.
So many of us are going through something but hesitate to speak up.
We worry about being a burden, about rejection or about seeming weak.
But the truth is, none of us should have to navigate life’s hardest moments alone.
If you’re reading this and going through a tough time, I want you to know that you’re not weak for needing support.
And if the people in your life who you reach out to don’t show up for you the way you need, please don’t give up. There are people who will care, who will listen.
Therapy has been one of those lifelines for me, and I hope anyone struggling knows it’s okay to seek help.
We need each other more than ever, and being there for one another doesn’t require perfect words or solutions.
Often, it’s just about showing up, listening and reminding each other that we aren’t alone—even in our darkest moments.
🍒