We’ve made it to the end of September.
September is Suicide Awareness Month, and I have seen so many amazing posts—people being brave, sharing their journeys, their paths, and their pain.
But there’s one message I keep seeing that hits me hard:
“If you’re struggling, reach out.”
Let me explain.
No one signs up for mental health conditions.
No one asks for addiction, emotional turmoil, or the crushing weight of depression and anxiety.
Yet here they are—facing it: lost, alone, ashamed, filled with regret, confusion, and isolation.
Because that’s what mental health conditions do.
What we need is light. A light to offer those who feel lost and alone, ashamed and confused. And how do we create that light? By changing the way we see mental health.
We must start looking at it for what it truly is: a sickness.
My girl never said, “Pick me, pick me!” when mental illness crept in.
Just like no one says, “Pick me!” for cancer, or heart disease, or Parkinson’s. No one would ever choose that.
So why on God’s green earth do we believe anyone would choose mental illness?
It makes no sense.
And here’s the hard truth: in the deepest part of that sickness, when the mind itself is working against you, how does someone reach out, when the world is quick to judge, to label, to call it selfish, to turn grief into blame?
The mind is an organ. Just like the liver, the heart, the kidneys, the bones. And like any organ, it can get sick. When it does, it rewires, misfires, and turns against the body—creating havoc.
That’s what happened to my daughter. Her mind grew sick.
It poisoned her thoughts. It beat her down again and again until she had nowhere else to go.
We celebrate those who fight the good fight with cancer. We cheer on those battling Parkinson’s or heart disease. Can we not honour the warriors who battle every day with their own minds?
I will. Until the day I die.
I will never shy away from talking about mental health conditions. Never. Because silence only keeps the shame alive.