Mental health is an absolutely crazy issue (no pun intended) and if you listen hard enough, you’ll most likely hear me start a rant about it. So I was extremely excited to be able to do a presentation on depression for a class, and I developed a very meaningful slide about the stigma surrounding mental health.
When I looked a little closer, it brought me to tears and I could not understand why. Echoed in so many of the statements about mental health stigma were flashbacks from my own life.
I saw in the information about public disinterest a little girl who felt like nobody cared when she was sad.
I saw in the comments about mental illness being a myth a group of friends that got mad when I suffered and told me to “just be happy” or to “get over it.”
I remembered trying to convince myself that my struggles were no big deal.
I saw a high schooler surrounded by people who saw her struggling and decided they would rather not know the truth because it’s uncomfortable.
I heard voices telling me that being depressed is selfish, an excuse, or completely my fault.
And I saw a ton of scars that I was so ashamed of, embarrassed of, that I was terrified to let anybody know my secrets because they would judge.

I myself am a product of the stigma surrounding mental illness–but I am nowhere near a worst case scenario. Worst-case scenarios happen every 13 minutes. Suicide is one of the US’s leading causes of death, and it’s ignored because people don’t believe it can be beat.

Here’s my theory–if more people knew that they were heard, accepted, and loved, there would be fewer suicides. If the stigma could be taken away, then more people would speak up and seek help.
A lot fewer people would end up like me.

I believe in speaking up–if you need help, seek it. If you see someone else who needs help, reach out. Erase the stigma in your own mind and you’ve already started the revolution. Sometimes it only takes one person.
And hey, you’re a person.
Maybe, it would only take you.