The greatest tragedy of my three decade battle with mental illness is the friends I've lost. I may talk in stark and brutal terms about mental health but I have seen so much death I've become almost anaesthetised to it.
That makes me feel I'm a bad person. Guilt can be horrible. Have I let people down? Could I have done more? Those awful what if questions.
Up until about half an hour ago this weekend had been going well. Tired yes but less anxious
I spent more than an hour this morning talking to someone from my past who is really depressed. She turned to me eleven years after she heard me talk about mental health. Apparently I inspired her and she looked up to me.
When I finished the call I saw a couple of messages had come through. My friend Kelly died in the night. Only 50 and the life an soul of every party. I was her last night.
Life and death exist side by side. One minute life, the next death. I'm bewildered and not sure what to think or say. People will turn to me for support and I will gladly do that. And they will support me.
Later I will gather with her family and friends and we will mourn.
Another day another death. Seen too much of that. Stay safe and never take anything for granted.
I Heard a Voice
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