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August Blog Carnival

Enola has the “Back to School” edition of the Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse up over at her site, if you haven’t taken a look yet, like me, head on over and get caught up.

This is the first time I’ve popped open my laptop since Thursday, after traveling for a family wedding, and even now I’m in Washington DC for the week to attend a conference for the day job, so I’ll have to find time to get over there an check out the post myself! Hopefully I’ll be able to do that, I know there’s always such great stuff in each carnival!

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  • Survivors Photo Project

    Gretchen from Let Go, Let Peace Come In sent me an email today, asking to promote their photo project. Basically, they are collecting photos of survivors, either from childhood or another photo they are comfortable sharing, along with a short caption they wish to share with the world. It looks like a really powerful project…

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    Watching Athlete A

    If you pay attention to the news at all, I’m sure you’ve seen something about Larry Nasser over the past couple of years. You may even be fairly familiar with the story. If so, the Netflix documentary Athlete A might not offer a lot of things you don’t know to some extent or other. But, you may want to watch it anyway, even though watching it and hearing the stories will be difficult. I did a couple of nights ago, and had a couple of thoughts about it, in no real order of importance.

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    Why I Took Part in the AFSP Virtual Overnight Event

    It was the stories. It was all of those people doing this in memory of someone they lost. Or, like me, in memory of the fact that we are still here instead of leaving others to tell our stories. In our day to day lives, it’s too easy to forget how many people are impacted by suicide each and every year across the country, and the world. The further in time I get away from that time in my own life, the easier it can be to put it behind me and forget about it. But, that is something I never want to do. As painful as it is, I want to remember what it was like to no longer want to be alive. When someone is in that place, I want to be able to say, “I’ve been where you are”, to recall all of the details, and be able to sit and understand. Because that is how we save people. Not by talking in hushed tones about depression, or mental illness, but by sharing the stories of people who survived and healed, and of those we’ve lost.

    Let’s face it, if you spend much time considering those losses, and listening to those stories, it is impossible to walk away without realizing that we have lost a devastating number of people to this disease. Many more than some of the diseases we all gladly talk openly about every day. Yet somehow, maybe because we don’t understand it, or are afraid of it, we keep silent. After all, it might make someone uncomfortable. Even I have, at times, kept the details to myself in fear of making other people uncomfortable, or risk having them worry about me. The more I read and heard these stories though, the more I realized that I needed to share my story, if only so that anyone who reads it would know, and maybe even understand a little bit, what it’s like to be so far down into the darkness of depression, that you don’t want to live any longer. So, with that said, let me share my experience with you, now that it’s been some 25 years, and maybe now people won’t worry so much about me. (Warning, this is about to get dark, and we will talk a bit about suicide, though I will keep those exact details out)

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    Little Over a Year

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