The "Me" in MEntal Health

I want to signal that I am a safe space.

I am not a mental health professional. I’m like many of you--a career-driven executive whose family has walked a minefield of depression, addiction, anxiety and suicide.

• I’ve answered my cell at 2:00am, far away in a random Marriott, while a relative told me she had a gun and planned to use it. 

• I’ve installed a locking mailbox after my identity was stolen by an addict I was trying to help.

• I’ve stepped out of a client meeting to tell the police, “Yes, launch the search and rescue team to find him.”

• I’ve spent weekends visiting the ER more times than I can remember

• I’ve fabricated answers to, “So sorry, he was so young. How did ___ die?”

• The sense of panic when the phone rings and rings, and no one picks up

• The overdose funerals

• The suicide funeral

Most people on the outside looking in would not suspect my life had been so touched by mental health needs. I’ve hidden it pretty well. It’s hard, and I see you.