It’s not easy

If you know someone who’s depressed, please resolve never to ask them why. Depression isn’t a straightforward response to a bad situation; depression just is, like the weather.

Try to understand the blackness, lethargy, hopelessness, and loneliness they’re going through. Be there for them when they come through the other side. It’s hard to be a friend to someone who’s depressed, but it is one of the kindest, noblest, and best things you will ever do.

― Stephen Fry

Scrutiny

There are pervasive stereotypes about masculinity and femininity that define how we are all supposed to act, dress and speak. They serve no one. Anyone who defies these so-called ‘norms’ becomes worthy of comment and scrutiny.  These stereotypes need to end.

It’s not easy

Men are expected to be strong, dependable, resolute, and more or less emotionless.
We’re not allowed to exhibit emotions. As boys we were often told not to cry because big boys don’t do so, crying is out of the question.
Most males have heard these words in some form or another: “Don’t be a p*ssy”, “grow a pair”, “man up.”
We hear these words when we don’t live up to prescribed notions of masculinity. After all, men are supposed to be tough.
And by tough we mean stoic, invulnerable and violent when necessary.

This mentality is doing more damage to humanity than most of us likely realize.

Everybody’s free to feel good

You’re gonna go through things you don’t deserve
And it’s gonna hurt like an open nerve
So just know your soul’s as old as earth
And whatever you do, don’t be told its worth
Being strong feels exactly the same as being weak
The difference is you don’t quit
Not until you reach the peak
I believe in the meaning of the spoken word
It’s more than a speech to speak
It’s what I feel when I’m sitting in your presence
The answers are written in your essence
It’s all a test to see if you’re made for it
So go for it, you can’t wait for it
‘Cause you’ve got a destiny with your name on it

A therapists message to the world.

I don’t like the phrase “A cry for help.” I just don’t like how it sounds. When somebody says to me, “I’m thinking about suicide, I have a plan; I just need a reason not to do it,” the last thing I see is helplessness.

I think: Your depression has been beating you up for years. It’s called you ugly, and stupid, and pathetic, and a failure, for so long that you’ve forgotten that it’s wrong. You don’t see good in yourself, and you don’t have any hope.

But still, here you are; you’ve come over to me, banged on my door, and said, “HEY! Staying alive is REALLY HARD right now! Just give me something to fight with! I don’t care if it’s a stick! Give me a stick and I can stay alive!”

How is that helpless? I think that’s incredible. You’re like a marine: Trapped for years behind enemy lines, your gun has been taken away, you’re out of ammo, you’re malnourished, and you’ve probably caught some kind of jungle virus that’s making you hallucinate giant spiders.

And you’re still just going “Give me a stick! I’m not dying out here!”

“A cry for help” Makes it sound like I’m supposed to take pity on you. But you don’t need my pity. This isn’t pathetic. This is the will to survive. This is how humans lived long enough to become the dominant species.

With NO hope, running on NOTHING, you’re ready to cut through a hundred miles of hostile jungle with nothing but a stick, if that’s what it takes to get to safety.

All I’m doing is handing out sticks.

You’re the one staying alive.