My heart is breaking.
Today I learnt of the death of Claire Greaves, who passed away in late February. She was a mental health activist, a recovery warrior, and the world is a sorrier place for her passing.
I feel as if I have no right to be sad about this, though. I never met her.
Through the mental health community on Instagram, I found Claire. My anxiety prevented me from reaching out to her, as it did to Sophie before BPD took her life too. I have deep regret about that. Perhaps there is nothing I could have done for either of them, but to have shown them that one more stranger saw them. One more stranger cared. One more person found their strength to fight inspiring. Watching their lives unfold through their updates made me root for them. I dreamed that I could know these beautiful souls, but was too terrified to speak to them.
Being on the other side of suicide does not take away your own suicidal thoughts.
Seeing and feeling the effects of losing others does not automatically shock you into recovery.
What it has done is encourage me to reach out to people. To tell people when they give me good vibes, when I love their clothing, when I feel inspired by them.
A moment wondered is a moment lost.
Let the words have their moment.
I love your nails.
That dress is beautiful.
You have such a calming energy.
The worst you can be is weird.
The best you could be is the distraction that puts a smile on their face, takes their mind away from the blackness, and saves their life that day.
Stay safe, friends.