Half past midnight.

I am having a lot of intrusive thoughts and flashbacks but I’m trying not to let it all control me.
Questioning whether I’m a strong or weak person, what does it mean to be “weak”?
Am I weak, simply because I’ve been hurt by many people? Does that make me naive? Am I deserving?
People have always commented that I have a tendency to “live in the past” which is true but I believe only because I’ve never felt like I’ve been allowed closure to so many things.
Explanations with absence of blame and deflection. Apologies that were backed by changed behaviour.
Most people in my life have took advantage of my over emotional soul, I think. Seen the shit I’ve been through and think, “surely my shit won’t hurt, she’s took on so much already”
In fact, I’ve actually had multiple people straight up admit this, in similar words.
But the thing is, if you know what someone’s been through, surely you’d want to break the cycle of hurt and pain? You cannot respect what you call a person’s “strength” whilst also taking advantage, adding more woe, knowing it is what they’re “used to”.
I’m thinking about a lot of things, really. That I always saw myself as an open person but really, if I’m honest with myself, it was only a superficial version of openness. I was/am still only allowing to be seen what I feel suitable/comfortable with.
And although I may cry and feel with ferocity, I don’t actually express it. I laugh or fold into stubborn silence. I think I’m probably quite emotionally closed and stunted and I’m not entirely sure how to grow through that yet.
I wonder what kind of person that makes me, a selfish one? Do I care more about defending myself than the people trying, ever frustratingly, to break down my walls?
Do I appreciate them? I do, although you wouldn’t always recognise it. Genuine attempts at kindness met with sarcasm and self deprecation. A display of true emotion met with a distant, standoffish aura.
That’s another thing, I suppose, I have to be honest about. Many people have called me “cold” in my life.

Watch The Flower Bloom

Time for a very honest post.

Nervous. I mean, I’m used to opening up, but this is very close to my heart and sensitive.

The love of my life has opened up to me over the last few days about how I can make him feel and the accuracy of everything he said really hit hard.

Being critised my whole childhood, even up until early adulthood, by those who were meant to protect me has left me afraid of being myself and being vulnerable in so many intricate ways.

It made me build this armour where I stopped allowing any criticism in and for a long time, that made me feel strong and powerful. That I never had to admit to having any flaws because if I started to accept I had things about me that I need to change, I felt that meant everyone’s verbal abuse in my past was right.

I couldn’t and cannot differentiate between their abuse and caring constructive criticism, so I blocked it all out.

I thought that I could continue to be so hardened, even in a relationship, that it wouldn’t affect it but that wasn’t and isn’t fair of me.

I have often put my partner in an impossible position. Where he cannot openly express when he’s upset with me because he’s so afraid of how upset I get, so he bottles it up.

Instead of hearing his feelings, I will panic and only hear “I don’t love you” which is NEVER something he says to me. All he’s saying is, “hey, you hurt me by saying.. ” but the moment the words leave his lips, I feel like I’ve been shot through the chest.

I’ve been ignorant to his feelings because I’m afraid if he sees a slight flaw in me, that means he doesn’t want to be with me.

But every person deserves to speak their feelings within a relationship, that’s how you grow as people and a couple, and throughout ours it’s been incredibly one sided.

Never have I wanted to be blind to his feelings but I’ve been so damn terrified of being hurt, I’ve not always been fair.

My isolation has been key in making him feel alone. It has always been a coping mechanism for me which worked whilst I was single but bringing that into a relationship, it has been hurtful for him.

I began to shut off more, become colder, once my “family” abandoned me.

Became convinced that because they abandoned me, he would too, regardless of his reassurances. Nothing could convince me otherwise. 

So, I became lost in my own world. Sat in the same room but stuck in my own mind.

Not even wanting to speak because I tell myself over and over that I’m unlovable and I believed/believe that I’m not good enough to be around anyone.

This, predictably, made him question himself. Did he do something wrong? Did I not love him anymore?

And I, so deep in emotional turmoil, failed to see it from his perspective.

When he asks me, “I wish you’d speak to me more”, all I hear is, “you’re so boring, you’re a worthless person”

Every little hint of how he felt, I took as an attack, though it never was.

And what’s worse, I’d totally convince myself that I was right.

It’s taken a few days to realise how cold I’ve been.

I’m not going to be cruel to myself, I know that my behaviour has come from immense pain and abandonment.

But I am truly afraid I’ve become so distance from human interaction, I’ll never be the same again.

That I’ll never trust again and that I’ll continue to project that onto a man who has done nothing but stand by me.

A man who tells me he loves me constantly but I hold back, I feel an anger inside, “how could anyone love me? I deserve to die”

And I’ve not at all realised how that makes him feel, I thought I was the only person hurting.

I didn’t see how my pain was causing his. “All I want is to help you, stop saying I don’t care, of course I care. I love you. Stop thinking I don’t want to listen, all I want is for you to open up.. ”

But all my mind repeated was LIE-LIE-LIE

For no reason, other than how others have treated me.

The one person who truly wants to give me his heart, who just wants mine in return, and I’ve been too scared to share that.

To share any part of me.

And numerous times, I’ve opened my heart up here, on Instagram and he’s asked me, “why can’t you tell me these things?” And I’ve become defensive and bitter- thinking, why should I? He wouldn’t care, I’m just doing him a favour by not burdening him.

Completely oblivious that he doesn’t see me as a burden.

And how hurtful it must be to see me opening all my emotions up to an online world of strangers and not the man sitting next to me, asking me if I’m okay. 

Of course, I absolutely adore him, no doubt about it.

Do I think I’ve been neglectful? Yes.

Do I think I’ve been cold and made him feel alone? Definitely.

No matter how lovingly he’s treated me, I’ve always regarded him as a potentional threat- someone who could break my heart at any given moment because in my mind, that’s all people do.. All they do is hurt.

I’ve spent almost four years with him but how much of those years have I really given him of myself? I’m not sure.

I am genuine and honest but I don’t like to talk about my feelings, I don’t like to give away anything that’s going on in my mind and heart.

I never saw how that made him question whether he’s good enough for me, whether he’s doing something wrong because every time he’s tried to help me, I’ve pushed him away.

Choosing to stand alone, telling myself it was the best decision for both of us.

Never seeing how much it broke his heart to see me slip into depression after depression, sleeping my life away, self harming, hearing my cry in the middle of the night.

I thought I was/am the only one hurting and I didn’t want to let him in because of many reasons but one of those being, the deep rooted belief that I’m damaged goods. That nothing can change me and misery and sadness will have hold of my heart forever.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be that way but I feel so stuck, still scared to reach out and ask for support when I need it.

Still scared to be honest about how I feel, instead of masking it with a smile.

I thought if I opened up about my struggles, I would bring him down, make him depressed.

I guess I’m slowly realising the opposite, that becoming distant makes him more depressed than hearing my woes ever would.

I also never wanted to open up about my traumas and feelings because I felt/feel ashamed because for so much, I still blame myself.

I’ve only just began truly speaking to him fully about the grooming/sexual assault.

A few weeks ago, I told him a part of my story and I broke down sobbing…

“I couldn’t tell you”, I cried, “it’s my fault.. It was all my fault”

And he held me and told me that none of it was my fault. That he’d never think that.

As comforting as his words were, I still felt desperate to rip myself out of his hug.

I felt dirty, disgusting.

I fear that’s why I’ve been so distant. I almost know that’s entirely why I have.

I still feel like I’m to blame. That I’m nothing but a body to be used. That I am dirty and unlovable and broken.

And no matter how much he tells me otherwise, I can’t see it.

I can’t see the Lucy he sees, the Lucy he loves because I don’t know her.

I feel like I’ve been floating outside of myself, just engaging minally with those around me, just enough so it seemed like I was coping.. But I don’t know that I have been or that I am.

I’m afraid I’d push away the one person who dedicates SO much of his time and heart for me because I cannot leave my pain of my past behind.. Because I don’t like who I am and not for my own doing,

For the things another has done to me.

It is hard to believe I’m worthy of anyone’s time when the people who raised me, left.

I feel frozen in time, unable to grow, and I want desperately to break out of this cage but I’m so scared to be hurt again.

Part of the criteria.

Meaningless existence..
My words will mean nothing when I’m gone, nothing I say will ever be remembered.
I feel, I fear, they mean very little in life.
The father that abandoned.
The mother that would follow suit.
The rest of the family, too.
People who raised me, was their love ever real? What was my significance in their life? Just to be used?
How could I have been so blind? How can they discard me so?
For a man who stole so much of me.
You take a stand, you become the black sheep, the outcast.
You become the lonely, the afraid, the unwanted.
The friends who grow tired of your troubles, throwing you out to find new, more simple friendships.
Trust unable to build. Those left sympathise but don’t truly understand.
They grow frustrated with your defenses, minimise your trauma in frustration, then feel guilt..
But the damage is already done.
You determine not one person is worth your trust, not one person can you rely on.
Others will always hurt, intentionally or not, it all feels the same.
You’re truly alone, even when not, you’re unable to connect with the world. The world doesn’t know how to connect with you.
“I love you”, “I care”, “I’m here for you” all meaningless in your heart and mind, all temporary sentiments people express, no true devotion.
Everyone leaves. It is simply a matter of when.
And you never stop blaming yourself.

Do You Think?

“Do you think I want to be like this?”
I ask, as I wake from the third nightmare in an hour. Tears streaming, heart pounding, shaking and afraid.
“Do you think I’m doing for this attention?”
I ask, as I sit on the ground hugging my knees, rocking. Eyes shut tight, praying the memories will leave.
“Do you think it’s fake?”
I ask, body so full of fear that I vomit into the toilet, unable to grip reality, thoughts tearing my heart into a thousand shreds.
“Do you think I’m exaggerating?”
I ask, dragging my long nails into my skin just to feel pain, the pain I feel I deserve. The pain I’ve been taught I deserve.
“Do you think I should just get over it?”
I ask, as I scrub my skin til it is red and raw. Trying to be clean but I can never be clean now, can I? He stole that from me.
“Do you still think I’m not trying hard enough?”
I ask, pulling my hair so hard, anything to stop my mind from racing. Anything to stop thinking, even for just a brief moment.
“Do you think I’m lazy?”
I ask, invisible chains confining me to my bed, a thousand voices whispering reasons why I never deserve to set foot outside my room.
“Do you think I’m choosing to be this way?”
I ask, staring into a mirror, spending hours picking out every flaw I see. Never seeing anything but a monster staring back.
“Do you think I’m just trying to be difficult?”
I ask, becoming mute and isolated, too afraid to speak. Knowing my words are never taken seriously, knowing I’m only ever seen as “crazy”
“Do you think I’m selfish?”
I ask, spending every waking moment in emotional turmoil. Having multiple, silent anxiety attacks a day, to not disturb anyone. Taking myself to the bathroom to hide my tears, never wanting to burden others. Forcing myself to laugh and smile, pushing myself to engage in conversation, when all I can think of is a hundred different ways I could end my life and make everyone so much happier.

When Will You Leave Me?

So, despite feeling pretty well rested, last night was full of nightmares again. All vivid.

I just woke from another. It was fucked up. Each one was some variation of sexual abuse.

The one I just awoke from, I feel the need to type out (hence the TW), because it’s all just really shook me up.

It started off just playing through how I was sexually assaulted and the aftermath, everything after that part was just fictional dreaming but upsetting nonethelesss.
So, after my dream played through what actually happened, it focussed heavily on everyone around me saying, “don’t tell anyone, you know not to tell anyone, don’t you?”
Then it fast forwards to the same thing happening again, with a friend of my abuser’s, under my abuser’s watch.
I felt so broken and defiled again but this time, the man who hurt me had written a diary of it all, which I stole.
I ran back in the home but the hallways and rooms kept growing longer as I tried to reach the stairs to my room (where I hid after I was abused irl), and I could see my abuser’s face vividly in every fucking corner as I tried to scramble past.
I finally made it to my room and one of my childhood friends appeared and we spoke about what I was going to do with the diary, whether I was going to report everything, which I agreed I was as soon as I was “out of danger”.
My bedroom overlooked the garden and I saw the new abuser enter the gate and come towards the home. My friend and I hid below the window and tried to keep as quiet as possible.
My *actual* abuser welcomed his friend and the friend explained his diary of what he did to me was missing, “that bitch has it”
They discussed what they could do to me to get in back.
My friend says, “this is your time now, your chance to go”
I say, “but I’m just so afraid”
And then I wake up.

I told my psychologist about the rate I have these nightmares, she was concerned, she’s desperate for me to get into the trauma skills coping therapy but there’s a long list.
The nightmares make me feel physically sick, even now, 25 minutes after waking from it. It’s all so real, especially the parts which actually happened to me in real life.

Inside the EDL: What is it really like to spend time as part of the controversial group?

All names have been changed or redacted.

November 2016, Aaron was approached by a member and asked to join him at an EDL March in Telford. 

The EDL, for those of you not aware, is the highly critisised English Defense League. It is a far right group first established in London, it’s most notable member being Tommy Robinson, a former member of the BNP party. It grew in popularity, aided by its strong media presence.

The organisation’s critics accuse them of being racist, with the behaviour of moronic football hooligans. The EDL’s unclear ideology and actions have given the impression of fascism, often seen to be targeting those of colour and various religious backgrounds, specifically the Muslim community. Members are widely thought of as right wing, Nazi sympathiser types, with no intelligent thought or reason behind their views.

The EDL argues that they hold no place on the political spectrum and do not consider their members right wing nor left and that they do not discriminate based on people’s political stance. They consider themselves a counter-Jihad movement, passionate in the belief that Islam and the Muslim communities pose a threat to Western society and are extremely anti-immigration. While they define themselves as an anti-islamist movement, they refute the claims that they are racist, countering that they only hold hatred for Muslim extremists, not the community and people itself. They have many motivations, that seem to vary, but the consistent comment is that they are desperate to not allow Sharia Law to be placed into Western society.

Aaron is, by admission, not really one for politics. If he had to place himself on the spectrum, he acknowledges he would be considered liberal. He knew of the EDL but never had any exposure to it in his personal life. When given the opportunity to attend a protest organised by the group, Aaron was intrigued. Having seen how the media portrays them, he was keen on getting his own perspective, to throw himself in and form his own opinion.

The date was the 5th of November, Aaron met up with the EDL member at his home early, 6 AM. He was handed a beer and questioned about his political stance, not wanting to seem biased against the group, he simply stated that he had no strong political stance and was met with laughter and jibes about being a “soft leftie”. This was a pattern that would continue throughout the entire experience.

They arrived at the train station for around 7:30, it was clear that there was going to be quite a lot of drinking, but Aaron was intent on keeping a clear head.

Arriving in Birmingham, he and his guide met with the rest of the group outside the station. The group was varied in age and sex, though the majority was male and over 35. They made their introductions and again, he was overwhelmed by questions about his political stance. In not giving a firm response, the atmosphere of the group became more defensive, snide jokes and comments about being a “leftie snowflake” peppered their conversations.

Within the first 10 minutes, whilst waiting for the coach to Telford, Aaron was a witness to an incident that would set the tone for the rest of his time with the group. A member of the group had stepped away and began to harass an Asian male who was stood directing passers by to replacement busses.

“Why are you fucking here, you brown cunt”, Aaron was taken aback watching the elderly EDL member hurl abuse at the bewildered man, “you know we’re against your kind, don’t ya? Dirty prick, get back to your own country” he said with a smirk, rejoining the rest of the members.

Laughter rippled through the group. Aaron wanted to remain neutral but he already felt disgusted by his company for the day, questioning whether it a good decision to have joined them.

They climbed aboard their coach to Telford. The group was loud and certainly didn’t hold back from revealing their true thoughts. What started as discussions on racial tensions, soon became barely comprehensible racist slurs between chugs of beers.

“Show him then”, one male laughed, as Aaron was shown a collection of smoke bombs, “we all chipped together to get them off EBay, we ordered them in red, white and blue because of England but they just came all white”, he shrugged.

That wasn’t the only thing the members had brought along, alcohol wasn’t the only thing seemingly impairing their speech. Many of the members had cocaine and speed on them, which they proceeded to share amongst each other on the coach, proudly exclaiming EDL chants.

Once they arrived, they headed to the march, which was located in the police station car park. There was many in attendance, much to the dismay of sighing officers.

Along with the EDL, there was another group present, The Pie & Mash Squad. The squad was allowed to attend, as they stated a belief in the same views as the EDL but eventually were escorted out of the area due to unruly behaviour. Surprisingly, none of the squad members were arrested but by the end of the march, members of the EDL certainly would be.

The march was shorter than Aaron expected, the demonstration lasting not much more than 10 minutes. It was mostly uneventful during, the expected chants about “Muslim paedophiles” being repeated. The police took little notice, despite members trying to provoke a reaction by taking photos standing close to the police cars holding flags and throwing claims of “police covering and protecting Muslims from punishment”

Opposite the station, was a pub, which all members retired to after the demonstration. This is where the day would take another turn. Aaron was very hesitant about the march but began to calm seeing no hint of trouble. This wasn’t to last, as drama erupted just before the return to the coach. The drama was, in no doubt, not helped by the copious amount of hard drug taking and heavy drinking which would continue through the evening.

One of the members Aaron had been speaking with was arrested for police harassment, while others cheered on.

On the coach back, Aaron was questioned heavily again, similarly to how he was before he arrived about his “leftist attitude”.

“The whole experience was uncomfortable, if I’m honest. I didn’t witness any violence but the way they spoke of people of colour was disturbing enough. It’s not an exaggeration to claim the group as racist, they most certainly are. Any person we across that wasn’t white, was subjected to sneers and spiteful comments. The Pakistani, Indian, and Polish communities thought of as “rats”. Of course I can’t speak for every member but there was not one person around me that day who didn’t make a racist remark of sorts. They reminded me of football hooligans and seemed more dedicated to cocaine, rather than their ’cause’. It mostly seemed to be made up of older, more socially inept males who appeared to be drawn in by feeling like they had found somewhere to finally fit in. After my first conversation with my EDL guide, I really did consider that this group had maybe been misrepresented in the media but it took all of 15 minutes for that thought to cease. They had no cogent argument, really, not that they spent much actual time speaking about it. It was basically a piss-up, a day for the middle aged crisis afflicted to snort and drink away from their families.”

Good Human?

Urgh. I’m driving myself bloody insane.
Currently worked up because I’ve convinced myself I look at least 10 years older than what I am (23) and that my looks (not that I had many to begin with) are just fading rapidly.
Took about a hundred selfies and gave up, can’t even stand the one I’m using for this post lmao.
I feel so ugly, urgh. Even make up isn’t helping today.
Mood-wise, I’m still irritable and seem to be almost seeking something to be upset about (not intentionally), self destructive? Self punishment? IDK?
Feelings about wanting to SH are quieter but not totally absent.
I don’t even know whh I’m upset, for fuck’s sake. Where has this mood come from? For the most part, typically, I can usually understand the source but this time I’m just clueless.
Just hit me like a tonne of bricks about a week ago (maybe? What is time? 🧐😂) and it’s still ongoing.
No sign of it brightening yet. It’s almost like my brain is just creating problems just for the sake of it at this point.
Like yes Lucy, this person did a shitty thing 5 years ago. Yeah Lucy, I know that other person hurt you repeatedly 3 years ago.. WHY IS THAT RELEVANT NOW? Like, the only person I’m “punishing” is myself.
I guess it’s because part of me always wants the person who have hurt me to suffer really painfully and never forget what they did, mostly because I can never let things go, yet I realise that isn’t healthy. I even acknowledge some of these people hurt me but that doesn’t make them bad, they were just immature/selfish/moronic at the time and they probably have grown.. But my mind is still like, “so what? Fuck them. They made your life hell for a year or two? Bet I can make them feel bad about it for their entire lives” Which is just.. Urgh. I don’t like thinking that way, don’t agree with it, but I’m not going to lie and say that I don’t feel that. I guess sometimes I feel bitter that people seem to be able to cope and move on from things and I still think about the things daily, years later.
Find it hard to understand that people can make mistakes (even repeated ones) for years without reform but still turn it all around and not be evil people because I dunno, to me, it doesn’t really matter how much a person changes for the better.. I’ll always have stronger emotions towards who they used to be and how they used to behave. I sound like a complete arsehole and I feel like one saying it. It’s true though, I don’t think I ever genuinely accept an apology because I never really forgive anyone. I kind of just try and brush it under the carpet and continue knowing them, still resenting them and holding shit against them.
This is probably why I’m not a huge fan of existing lol, I just can’t imagine why anyone would want me in their lives. I don’t really feel like I’m a nice person.

Typical Borderline

I’m an anxious wreck lately, if I’m honest.

Still struggling to stop reliving traumatic and painful memories, I can barely eat because the pain (emotionally) is so strong that it’s making me nauseous. 

I guess that really highlights how overwhelming emotions are with borderlines, they hijack everything. 

Nightmares frequent but I’m still getting sleep.

Self harming urges VERY strong, strongest they’ve been in awhile. 

I’ll be honest, the thoughts got so bad yesterday that I took myself into the bathroom, so close to the blades. I just sat there and wrapped myself into a ball, cuddling into a towel. I didn’t do anything but I wanted to. 

I kept seeing it in my mind, my thoughts telling me it would be such a release.. yet also a punishment.. punishment for what? I don’t know the answer to that. I just wanted to hurt and feel pain, maybe partly to serve as a distraction to my thoughts. 

I wonder if people understand or just say they do to make me feel better, although it never does, I always feel alone. 

I’m pushing myself to verbalise my feelings but I just keep repeating the same horrid memories people have heard a million times, they must be so tired, wondering why I can’t move on from so much. 

I’ve thrown myself into a series on Netflix called Chambers, I’m enjoying it, and it’s somewhat occupying my mind. 

Keep splitting on people. Questioning their love for me, whether they deserve me, whether they’re doing everything in their power to cause my mental torment.. but I believe most of that is projection, that I’m my own worst enemy. I just don’t trust anyone and I desperately wish I could. 


So, I just forced myself to clear out my wardrobe and get rid of things.
This is always be really difficult for me, as still owning the clothes I wore at my lowest weight was almost a comfort thing for me and the idea of getting rid of them scared me- still scares me because in doing so, I am forced to accept my current weight, my healthier weight.
It’s a really difficult thing to describe, the attachment I had to these items.
Getting rid of them, I felt a mixture of panic and relief. Panic about letting go, sort of slowly minimising my obsession/idolisation of that period and relief in trying to accept who I am, how I look currently.
I’ll admit, I have kept one dress from my lowest weight period, and I didn’t feel comfortable getting rid of that yet but I did push myself to disposing of everything else.
I wish I could say I feel much better but of course, emotions are much more complex than that. I feel disappointment and a sense of pride. Shame but hopeful. A contradictory set of feelings.
For some people, clothing is just simply that, clothing.
For me, clothing represents a lot, I associate items with emotions and memories, negatively and positively.
Part of me says, “letting go of those clothes means you’re just going to let yourself become a fat, hidious monster”
The other half says, “Getting rid of the clothes is allowing you to move forward, to love who you are in the moment”
Mental illness makes me struggle with many things but without a doubt, one of my hardest struggles is my disordered thinking around food and weight and how it all relates to my self esteem.


Today is a very hard day but I’m keeping myself composed.

My friend and I are spending the day together.

Made some spicy roast chicken pasta and I’m just trying to centre myself and get back on track. 

A few days ago, I felt broken and was very almost going to walk to a&e at the hospital and tell them I was going to commit suicide.

The reality of chronic mental health issues coupled with personal problems really will push a person to their limits.

I don’t speak too much about how I feel, not even to those closest often. I’ve been burned too many times and opening up isn’t easy.

But writing this is a relief of sorts. 

Onwards and upwards, forever a fighter, I’ll keep on going.

I’m not now or ever will be ashamed of my down days, weeks, or months.

It’s scary, I’ve been asked time and time again by my psych if I experience psychosis and as naive as it is, I didn’t totally understand what that meant. Looking at it now, I believe I likely do and have since my teens.

I’m afraid of death, which some would call a hindrance. That I’m too afraid of death to truly live.

I’d argue the opposite, for it is the fear of death that pushes me to keep living.

If I wasn’t afraid, I would’ve ended my life many years ago.

Not the most pleasant of things to admit but it’s a hard and important truth.

I no longer engage with alcohol or drugs because I cannot risk becoming impervious to that fear.

It’s not a truth everyone understands. Some will think it’s dramatic and to those who think that, I’d ask you to open your mind and heart. Your friend, partner, parent.. Could relate to my words and those who can, really need support and understanding.

Suicide, suicidal ideation.. All highly charged topics but it needs to be discussed. You might think your suicidal friend is selfish, you may feel bitter that they don’t share their thoughts with you, you may mask you fear and concern with anger. To some extent, that’s okay, and it’s normal.

However, you must take a moment to check yourself. Acknowledge their struggling isn’t a statement about you. Them not reaching out isn’t because they don’t trust you but because they’re ashamed, they don’t want to burden others. Don’t make them feel bad for not speaking, reassure them regardless, that if they DO ever want to speak that you’re there for them. If they don’t, make sure they know that’s okay too. Sometimes it’s just enough to be a silent companion.

Don’t blame yourself, don’t blame the person. It’s okay if their mental health overwhelms you and you need to take some time for yourself, that isn’t selfish, and it doesn’t mean you’re betraying them. We need to care for each other but always ourselves first.

Don’t be surprised if your suicidal friend lashes out at times, they will try to push you away in attempt to minimise the hurt. Do not let them. Fight everything with kindness, even in the hardest of times.