Dear Fighter | A Letter of Compassion

This letter is in response to the recent suicide of musician Chester Bennington and is dedicated to everyone who fights an ongoing battle with depression and to those who could fight no longer.

Dear Fighter,

I see you. I see you surfacing in the deep water, struggling for a breath before the heaviness of the weight around your ankles drags you back down into the darkness. I see the waves crashing over you and I wonder if you'll recover or if this time, you'll disappear forever. But then the wave recedes and you do surface again, reaching your hand out to grasp at anything stable enough to pull yourself to freedom. I see you fighting.

I hear you. I hear the strangled cries for help. The gasps as the darkness inside your own head threaten to drown you out. I hear the silent pleas that reverberate inside of you but never seem to make their way out. No one would understand you anyway. Your cries are spoken in a tongue that cannot be translated for the masses, but I hear you fighting.

I know how overwhelming that darkness can be. I know what it feels like to be treading that water and unable to see which direction the shoreline lies. I know how sometimes it seems like it would be easier to take one last breath than let the current pull you away. I know the sadness of the truth inside your head, the truth that no one would send out a search party for you anyway. I also know that the truths inside your darkness are just lies told by the waves that are trying to consume you.

I know this because I've been there. I've been fighting too.

Maybe you're right. Maybe no one else knows what's going on inside your head. Maybe no one could comprehend exactly how dark it is, how deep it goes. But it doesn't mean that no one cares. Compassion transcends language and in the language of depression, you don't have to speak the native tongue to reach out and ask for help.

You can make it through that dark moment. All it takes is one thing. One thing to act as your buoy. One thing to give you enough hope, to wrap your arm around it to get you through this moment and closer to the shore. Maybe it's your child's smile. Maybe it's your lover's voice. Maybe it's your cat and how you worry that no one would find him if you were gone. Whatever it is, find it. Find your one thing and keep fighting. Keep fighting, friend. Your life is worth it and your story is not over.

Compassionately,

A Fellow Fighter

If you or someone you know is tired of fighting and feels like it's time to end that fight, there is help. You can call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at (800) 273-8255. They are open 24/7 and are free and confidential.

For more information on a project that is near and dear to my heart, you can join the ones who battle with mental illness and refuse to give up the fight - Project Semicolon. Your story isn't over yet. ( ; )