At one time or another in life we will all experience darkness. As we navigate the losses life presents us, darkness will find its way into our atmosphere. There will be moments when depression sets in or at least attempts to. Trust me when I say I know a little something about depression. I have been battling it for a great part of my life. Try as I must to shake it, it finds its way back around the bend again. Life’s events often ushers depression in more often than I care to deal with it.

Recently, I experienced a series of slip in falls with ultimately ended in a broken ankle. The broken ankle brought with it reconstructive surgery and an extensive physical breakdown of my body. It also brought with it a series of hospital stays, ambulance rides, doctor appointments and medications. My body was under duress. My appetite changed, my mind drifted and my circle of friends and family support dwindled. I felt like the Lone Ranger. Visits from those in my circle where few and far between. Phone calls were all but none existent. It seemed like no one cared. I know that’s far from the truth but the enemy played that song in my head every chance he got.

Upon arriving home the few times I managed to escape the hospital, everything the enemy said proved true. And I was forced to be readmitted. This last time, not only did my health get me readmitted, the suicide attempt was at the forefront of my stay. I was placed on a 51/50 mental health hold. I had never experienced having to have an attendant sit in the room with me around the clock. Nor had I ever experienced everyone who entered the room questioning me about further plans to hurt myself. I was being treated as if I was unstable. Was this what my life had come to? Was I insane? Had I allowed life to break me down beyond repair, again? This wasn’t my first rodeo as far as attempted suicide goes. However, it was the only documented attempt. I had unsuccessfully been trying to take my own life on and of since I was 12.

Mental health is a topic many choose to tip around. No one wants to seem as though their life is out of balance. The stigma of having a label affixed to one’s name screaming to the world that one is mentally deficient scares lots of people. No one wants to be labeled crazy. Oftentimes, I’ve overheard conversations and have even called people crazy, joked about them needing a crazy check and other demeaning things. Though the things I said were meant to be funny, there is nothing funny about those things. I didn’t understand how hurtful they were until myself and a few close family and friends were battling depression and other mental health issues. We must be careful what we allow to escape our lips. Oftentimes, if we are not careful we do more damage than good. What we say when someone is in the throws of a mental breakdown could be the defining factor that either reels them back in or sends them further away. Thus, it is imperative that we be careful how we talk to and treat people because we never know that person’s mental state.