We lay in bed. She was crying. I don’t remember why, but I do recall I hadn’t learned that when women cry, you shut up, hug and listen.
So I went on and on.
“It’s gonna be alright.”
“You’re gonna figure this out.”
“Don’t worry. It’ll all turn out fine.”
Eventually, she calmed down. Whatever I said last, I smiled. It was quiet for a second. Then, in a sudden moment of utter clarity she said it:
“You’re the most mentally healthy person I’ve ever known.”
I laughed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s like…nothing fazes you. Ever. You’re ALWAYS optimistic. How do you do that?”
I shrugged. Then I talked about happiness and gratitude and how I was lucky to have such a wonderful family and childhood.
I didn’t realize it back then, but it was the best compliment I’ve ever received.
Ever since her husband passed, Talinda Bennington has been a beacon of hope, spreading love and awareness about mental health all around.
On my walk today it hit me. I get it now. It’s up to us. The ones who got lucky. Who can carry the weight life has given them with ease.
We’re the ones who must start a conversation. Reach out a hand and say “let’s talk about mental health.” Let’s acknowledge it and treat it the way we should: like a real problem with real consequences for real people.
It’s a form of illness that deserves our attention. The world is smaller than ever. We’re all connected, all the time – and yet never have so many people felt lonely, sad, angry and isolated. Never was sharing so hard.
So here I am, reaching out my hand. You’re not alone. You deserve to be seen. And heard. You deserve to be loved.
If you’re ever angry, or sad, or frustrated, or depressed, send me a message. Or an email. Reach me anywhere. Reach out to anyone, really. Anyone you trust.
I’m no therapist. I may not have the perfect answer, but I have the power to listen. To acknowledge your struggle.
Don’t worry about me. I can take it. Someone once called me the most mentally healthy person they’d ever known.
