I have been writing candidly about my life for as long as I can remember. I've never been able to pull off fiction, because my brain doesn't work that way, but I have been able to, as Hemingway put it, "sit down at a typewriter and bleed." Or, since it is the 21st century, sit down at a computer and just let it all out. Maybe I'm a product of my 21st over-sharing generation or maybe I just want others to feel less alone in their own struggles; some days, I'm not quite sure. But either way, the topics in which I choose to cover never fail to evoke a strong response, and I would never want it any other way.
One such topic, from which I’ll never steer, is my depression. I've been very open in many pieces I've written about my struggles, as well as being honest about my suicide attempt about nine years ago. That particular subject, I can say for sure, isn't about over-sharing at all, and absolutely about providing a sense of comfort and solace to those who are also dealing with their own depression and possible thoughts of suicide. It has taken me a long time to get to where I am on the matter, to be free of shame, embarrassment, and judgment of myself, but since I'm still here, alive and kicking, I feel it's a story worth telling.
Read the rest of the story over at our partner, YourTango!