I know this post will likely be unpopular or may come across as insensitive, but I've watched it far too many times to not comment on it.
When I was suffering with severe anorexia and depression, I questioned over and over, "what does this mean?" There has to be a reason for my suffering.
"God doesn't give you anything you can't handle," I was told over and over ad nauseum, which frustrated me.
Clearly, I cannot handle this, I thought to myself. I am suffering so much I am literally dying more and more by the day.
My spirit went first, which to me was the hardest to handle, as someone who is grounded in faith. Then my physical body quickly deteriorated thereafter as a result of the sadness.
"You have a voice" the people close to me told me. "That is the purpose. You have to share your story."
As a senior in college, that was the absolute last thing I wanted to do, was potentially call attention to myself. I don't think I'm special in any sense, I didn't feel like I had achieved any great feat, and I definitely didn't want sympathy.
I knew once I left treatment, I could go back to my life of school and work and hanging out with my friends, and pretend like nothing happened and I was totally fine, or I could give meaning to my suffering, and maybe in the process help other families.
I could not pretend I was just fine, because I wasn't. My family wasn't.
My family walked on eggshells for two years after I was discharged from the hospital, treating every word they said to me, every hug as if I was just a second away from folding into myself and disappearing.
I could not pretend everything was fine, because I'd be lying.
I knew there was a reason for my suffering.
My mom cried many nights when I was in the hospital, unable to relate to what I was going through.
She didn't understand why her daughter, who had always loved baked ziti and fought with her sister over a bag of Dorito's could not "just eat". She did not understand what "reason" I had to be depressed; I had a job, I was attending a private university on scholarship, I had friends and family, I had a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and food available to me, if only I would "just eat".
There were little resources for her to go to, to try to understand depression and eating disorders. People weren't talking about their experiences with raw honesty.
No one had said that even if you have health insurance, you might be denied treatment because you weren't "sick enough." And then once they viewed you as "sick enough," you could be "too sick" for treatment, and they would view you as a liability in case God forbid you died in their care. This is a real scenario my family was told.
I was determined from that point on, if anyone had any questions about depression or eating disorders, I would answer them, whether that be about treatment itself, how to access it or my experience it, I would never be offended by a question, instead grateful that it was asked and someone was seeking information. I lived it, I could tell them first-hand. For anyone who doesn't know what depression or eating disorders are, what happens when you experience it, I want them to ask, because if they encounter someone else who is suffering, I want them to have the knowledge to help them, and maybe even 1/10 of them understand in that moment.
Educating people about mental health and eating disorders feels like it has become my life purpose. Not by choice, but out of a sense of obligation. I know too much not to share it. I'm able to potentially help families, so why would I not? Out of pride? Have you met me....ever? Have you read anything I've written about myself... ever?
Maybe that's why I don't understand the people who choose to be silent. If you've lost someone as a result of mental health, addiction, or anything else, why are you not using your free time to raise awareness? As someone with first-hand experience, you have an opportunity to educate others about mental health or addiction to try to help them understand what their loved one is experiencing, and raise awareness about resources offered for people who might be suffering. You have the opportunity to make it known that you're a compassionate ear for people, that speaking to you is safe. You understand.
Maybe not everyone wants this opportunity or responsibility, but you have to acknowledge that you have it. For the person you loved.
An artist I love so much passed away last year as a result of addiction. The entire time he was alive, he always openly spoke about addiction and depression and anxiety. He had a platform, he knew it, and used it.
After he died, his mom launched a foundation in his honor to raise awareness and help families connect with resources for mental health care and addiction treatment. However, the "closest" to him his manager, his "fiance" were silent, never linking to the mother's foundation or linking to other helpful resources. Instead, they often opted to use their large platform to post self-serving materials, ads and links that would make them money. Very rarely, if ever did they talk about addiction or mental health, or link their followers to resources to help others who might be experiencing something similar as their loved one had.
I understand everyone grieves differently, but if you're able to post an ad, you're able to link a resource to an organization to help someone. That's not revealing anything personal about your situation, but you never know who might be scrolling on your page and need that information. That information could save their life.
If you loved someone and lost them to something like that, why would you not want to help other families escape a similar fate if you could?
Don't you wish someone had been able to share something with your loved one that might have been able to connect with them?
We need to talk openly about these things, because there is still a wide stigma about doing so. Perpetuating that stigma by silence only ensures that people who need help and could benefit from it, may feel like they cannot do so. This is damaging not only to the sufferer, but their wives, husbands, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, etc.
Even if you have 100 followers, you have a responsibility. Of those 100 people, you don't know who may be suffering and can benefit from a resource or hearing your personal experience, if you feel comfortable and are ready to share.
Here are some resources that helped me and my family:
National Alliance on Mental Health (has local chapters, search your state/city, some chapters offer support groups online or via phone, and other localized resources)
