brave.

This is a post that has been rolling around the back of my mind for months. In a way, it's actually the reason I started blogging again. It is something I have dodged in conversations with others, and especially I have avoided facing myself. 

I want to be upfront and honest and say that for me, this is scary. Cutting myself open and exposing my wounds isn't something I thought I'd be doing at this point in my life, but for lack of a better analogy, I feel like Moana and this damn blog is just calling me to write the damned post. Then as I'm cleaning my kitchen, Sara Bareilles starts speaking to me through my headphones. 

But I wonder what would happen if you

Say what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly, I want to see you be brave...

...Let your words be anything but empty
Why don't you tell them the truth?

Say what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly, I want to see you be brave

This is me being brave.

Hi, I'm Allie - and I am suicidal.

Now before any of you start reaching for your phones or alerting the authorities, I want to explain something. Suicide is not a subject I take lightly (trust me on this one). It is something I have (and do) stared straight in the face on more than one occasion. In fact, this weekend is always hard for me, personally. This weekend marks two years since we lost my uncle Marshall to suicide. When I think about the impact it still has on me, I am often met with my own confusion. 

Why does this still hurt? He was my uncle, but we weren't particularly close. So why, WHY is this hurting me?

The answer for me probably isn't the answer anybody wants to hear, or expects to hear. 

It hurts so much because you have been there, too. It hurts because while everyone is racking their brains wondering how somebody could have thought life would be better if they were gone, you're over here wondering if maybe they were right. It hurts because thinking like that brings instant guilt, having experienced being on the side of inexplicable loss. It hurts because yesterday you were preaching about helping those who are lost and depressed, and today you posted something on instagram that you want to believe in your heart, but instead you're researching which over-the-counter drug will be most effective in an overdose.

And it hurts so much, so often... that sometimes, you turn it off. I turn it off. I don't want to sit with my feelings. I don't want to sort through everything going through my mind and my life or try to explain it to anyone, so I don't. I turn it off, which in my case looks like going back to bed. 

I spend my days in bed. I distract myself and occasionally post something that shows the world "I'm kind of struggling but also I'm super okay!", because though I've turned my emotions off, I'm worried about the emotions of others who see me through little squares. 

Today was a good day. Today- for the first time in what feels like a lifetime- I didn't consider how much better my family's life would be without me in it. 

I want to make something very clear. I see doctors. And therapists. And psychiatrists. They all know. They are all aware. I feel so, so fortunate enough to be cognizant of my thoughts and mental status that I am VERY proactive when shit gets dark. To me, being suicidal doesn't always mean you have a plan you are ready to set in action. I've never been there, yet I still consider myself suicidal. I'm not here to talk specifics, but if that doesn't sit well with you I'd love to chat.

Upon hearing things like this, a lot of people think, "What can we do? How can we help?"

I'm here to tell you, I don't know. I don't. I wish I did, and I wish it was a one size fits all prescription for someone who was struggling. I wish I could say that baking a batch of cookies is the right answer when someone tells you they are struggling. The truth is, baking someone cookies is always the right answer. The other truth is - you can't count on people to tell you they are struggling.

YOU CAN'T COUNT ON SOMEONE TO TELL YOU THEY ARE STRUGGLING. Even if you ask.

Take this from someone who has perfected the, "I'm really good! Just surviving the chaos that is 2020. How are YOU?" 

Take this from someone who has had a lovely conversation earlier in the week, to having a conversation days later with that same person who attempted suicide. 

While this doesn't ring true for every depressed person, it rings true for many that I know. We are so, so good at "being okay". 

For those of you who are "being okay", I empathize more than I could ever want to. I see you. I want to say I hear you but we tend to be a quiet bunch. I want to tell you to let it out. You don't have to be loud,

But you certainly don't have to be alone.

As silly as this is, I have a song I listen to nearly every day. Every. Day. It somehow encompasses my feelings of being so deep, dark, and alone- yet reminds me that there is always, ALWAYS hope. 

Even when the dark comes crashing through,

when you need a friend to carry you,

and when you're broken on the ground

You will be found.

I have been so, so deep. I have been silent. I have also witnessed the incredible act of someone who had NO IDEA I was struggling, reach out and make the world of a difference. It gave me the simple reminder that I was not alone. 

YOU ARE NOT ALONE. 

You will be found.