Sorry to Everyone I've Cancelled Calls With
I've spent the past three years as a mental health advocate, speaking openly about my past, as if the story ends there. Despite my life revolving around ending the stigma, there are many days I don't feel equipped to have those conversations.
Mental health is a heavy topic. It's personal. It's intimate. And when your job involves digging deep, everyday, you might find yourself in a hole that you don't know how to get out of.
More often than not, I've been in that hole. I don't remember the last time I cried, but I do remember the last time I cancelled a phone call. Avoiding communication when I feel like I can't take anything else in has become a weapon of choice, and I use it regularly.
Unread messages linger for months. E-mails pile up in the hundreds. Voicemail notifications remind me everyday in red that there is a world outside of my head, which I'm not ready to walk into yet.
But soon the ice cracks, and no matter how carefully you tread, you fall in. So here I am, with a pickaxe, choosing to break it away myself, and bracing for the moment I get back to shore.