So with yesterday being Bell Let's Talk day, I decided to open the conversation about mental health by discussing some of what rolls around in my own head.
It was a ledge that I was very nervous about, and actually talked myself out of posting it at one point, before I got a vote of confidence.
Yet unless those conversations were with crickets, the reaction was otherwise a large thud.
That's not to say that I didn't hear from a few people, and I'm grateful.
But I guess I thought there would be more of a reaction.
More of a discussion.
I asked for help. I bled a bit last night.
I didn't want pity, though I certainly want answers.
But I hoped for some sharing.
As writers (and broadcasters), we have no perfect formula for what strikes a nerve.
I've written things that I thought would unquestionably hit the mark. I've pressed the "publish" button and metaphorically buckled up.
Then nothing.
Conversely, I've posted things that I thought were just sort of no big deal, and watched it blow up.
I worked my way through stages today. Befuddled, down, resigned.
Had I written this a few hours ago, the theme would have been different. Maybe angrier.
Now I'm just, well, disappointed. Or maybe astoundedd
I wrote more words about this than I expected to tonight.
I thought we were ready to have a conversation.
I was wrong.
No comments:
Post a Comment