Oh is it #timetotalk? But that's already all I do.
"Conversations change lives." - at least that's what the promotional poster says.
You know what's changing my life for the worst at the moment?
Conversations with mental health professionals. - and that's what I'm about to focus on, so if you're a lovely friend or acquaintance who has reached out to me? Go you, I love you and you matter and you helped.
As many others have pointed out (and, frankly, I do not have the headspace to read all the great things folks have already pointed out, so I know I will be echoing a lot that's already being said), the problem really isn't about us talking.
It's all so easy to say "just reach out". But when you reach out and nothing happens, it's hard to keep going. I'm not going to give details of all the times I reached out and it led nowhere. It feels highly ironic that I am at a time in my life when I have reached out, and talked, the most. Yet I am in the worst place I have ever been. Because the professionals I am under the care of do not listen. Because when you say you want to die and a professional's reaction is to call a friend of yours and ask about your "self-reported suicidal thoughts" in an accusatory way (because what could suicidal thoughts be but self-reported?), it's hard to feel supported. Because when you have a disability on top of your mental illnesses and they refuse to accommodate your disability, it's hard to feel supported.