I’ve broke sometimes

I know some people who think that the number of people talking about mental illness and struggles must mean that it’s envogue or faddish or something. I’m here to tell you that couldn’t be further from the truth.

I would venture that anyone who has had a physical injury of decent severity has reminders. That may be a literal scar, it maybe a joint that swells, locks up, or it may be that pain before it rains. I can tell you I've had my fair share. I've healed but parts of me will never be the same. Some will never be as close to where they were as I will ever want. But I go forward.

My mental health is no different. Some days I just wake up and I feel I’m already defeated. Some logic would tell you that you have nothing to lose so it’s the perfect time to try. But those days are the days I’m most petrified. Memories, emotions, visceral physical reactions. They all come back some days, sometimes just for a moment. Sometimes it's much longer.

I've come to realize that to live life is to feel pain. That's just a natural consequence of our time on this earth. That unavoidable reality is one of the things that can bind us. And I see something troubling. I don't know if it's ego or not. I'm not expert enough to decide that, but I am worried. People aren't getting help. And the suicide rate in America has climbed every year since 2007. That needs to change.

The only time I truly hear about mental health and asking for health is in the aftermath of the worst possible outcome, suicide, death. Shouldn't we be worried sooner? Shouldn't we do something sooner?

I truly hope we would. But we don’t always.

I am not ashamed to say I’ve needed help. I’m not ashamed I’ve reached out. There have have been moments of darkness that seemed to be never ending, there have been nights of no sleep, days where my hands shake and my thoughts race my heart to who can go faster. These moments in and of themselves happen in times of stress or grief. And times they continue longer. And that is the truth for me. I’ve broke sometimes.

To put myself back together I’ve leaned on faith, family, self help. And sometimes they’ve worked. Aspects of each have helped. But the truth remains that I’ve needed help sometimes of a professional nature. Just like a broken bone (of which I’ve had a few) I needed clinical aid. Luckily I found it in myself to reach out and get the help I needed. Treatment requires skills and knowledge that were not available to me alone.

Now I’m happy I did. Because I have more skills to hold and put myself back together and I know where to turn for more help. That’s invaluable. It keeps me closer to whole.

So if you’re struggling. Reach out. If you see someone struggling just be there. Those two things will move us closer. And if you need it. Seek help. Please.

Note: This was first written before the Florida School Shooting. After it happened I realized I needed to post this. There’s a problem with male mental health in America. Most of these shooters are men. Suicide rates are three times that of women and continuing to climb. It’s a real problem we need to address and now.