“Your blog is stupid. No one reads it and no one will care about what you write.”
“Stop writing about your fucked up life.”
“Your depression isn’t worse than mine. Get over yourself.”
Those aren’t anonymous people on the internet. Oh no. Those messages have come from people I love. People I trust. People whose opinions I value. Every time I hear a negative comment, it makes me break deep down inside. It makes me want to shut down this blog and give in to the hate, realizing that my dreams are, indeed, nothing but me whining about my depression and anxiety.
When the people you love think your dreams are trash, what do you do?
I mean, first, I cry. A lot. I give into the hate, wondering if it’s true. But then I pick myself up and journal. I journal to find the truth instead of the reflected gaslighting. What’s the truth here?
I have so many DMs from people who tell me how much I’ve helped them through my blog and speaking up against the mental health stigma.
I have people wanting to write their stories on my blog and share their experience with mental health.
I know the editorial industry well, and I know how to get people to listen and feel.
And then I cry a little more in therapy. And I journal some more. And then I get to the point that I don’t give a flying fuck. I turn on my “Boss Bitch” playlist on Spotify and I keep pushing.
I have a goal, and no one will stop me. I will turn this blog into something worth meaning. I will speak up and I will share others’ voices along the way. Not the people I love the most —nor the haters on the internet— will shake me from my dream. I believe that I was put on this earth to break the stigma of mental health, and damnit, that’s what I’m going to do.
I’m here to stay, and there’s nothing you can do about it.
Stigma Breakers 