You’ve made it further than most. You went to treatment. You stayed sober. You did the hard things—maybe multiple times. You rebuilt your life, or
You don’t have to lose your job. You don’t have to destroy your marriage. You don’t have to collapse in front of your kids. You
You’ve made it here. That means something. Maybe you’ve tried everything else first—books, podcasts, journaling, distracting yourself. Maybe you’ve told no one, or maybe you’ve
Some people fall apart loudly. Others do it quietly, behind locked doors, beneath perfect calendars and full inboxes. You’re the second kind. You still show
Some days, the idea of “tomorrow” is more than you can take. It’s not that you want to die. It’s just that you can’t keep
Your stomach drops when you think about reaching out again. You don’t know what to say. You left without a word—or maybe you faded out
You’ve been showing up—for everyone else. Maybe it’s been years since you took a sick day. Maybe your home looks perfect on video calls. Maybe
You didn’t fail. You hit a wall. You left mid-treatment. Maybe without saying goodbye. Maybe with guilt already creeping in the moment you stopped replying.
You’ve got the calendar. The meetings. The mask. You show up. You follow through. You check every box—and then a few extras just to make
“I didn’t want to be ‘a diagnosis.’ I just wanted to feel like myself again.” That’s what she said, softly, after a long pause. She
Experiencing a mental health crisis or self-harming behavior? Please call the National Crisis Lifeline “988”
