Each May, we observe Mental Health Awareness Month, and on October 10th, we recognize World Mental Health Day. These moments of reflection are important—they bring awareness to those who struggle. But for many who live with mental health challenges, these days can be especially difficult.
The following is a deeply personal reflection from someone close to us who experiences depression. It serves as a stark reminder of the complexity of mental health—the paradox of raising awareness while also acknowledging the pain it can surface. We believe these observances matter, but mental health is nuanced. There are no simple answers, and even the best intentions can carry unintended weight.
Trigger Warning: This essay contains candid reflections on depression and suicidal thoughts. Please read with care and reach out for support if needed.
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Fuck Mental Health Day.
As someone who’s looked out her fourth-floor apartment window and thought, “Should I just jump?”—my immediate reaction to my so-called advocates is: fuck off.
Sure, I guess we could pretend people only want to hang themselves one month out of the year. I guess my depression conveniently shows up just for May. But God forbid I’m flushing pills come November.
I tell myself, over and over, to just share the most comfortable version of my well-being.
— — — — — — — — — —
What I want to say about Mental Health Awareness Month is this:
The intensity and urgency of the mental health crisis only exist within the confines we’re comfortable acknowledging.
As long as it’s wrapped in a green ribbon, it’s acceptable.
But when it comes to truly recognizing the pain, fear, and tragedy of mental suffering, we bluff and fluff with:
“You’re not alone!”
“God won’t give you more than you can handle!”
“You are loved.”
Sure, we can tell each other—over and over—that we are enough.
But do we even believe it anymore, after the eightieth time we’ve said it?
I’ve come to realize:
My undoing is only comfortable for you because I’ve tamed it in the telling.
The intensity of my experience doesn’t fit within society’s bounds of tolerable.
My pain goes beyond just a lack of self-love
(though it couldn’t hurt to have some).
Green ribbons haunt me with their chants of “It’s okay to not be okay.”
And all the *“You are not alone”*s
feel incredibly lonely.
You’d think that by 2025, someone would’ve come up with something else to say for Mental Health Awareness Month.
I’d do it.
But I can’t.
I’m too depressed.
