Hello and welcome back to The Therapist Diaries,
In the last post, we talked about the importance of having a safety plan, a personalized, practical roadmap for what to do when things feel overwhelming. One of the key parts of any safety plan is identifying people you can reach out to when you're struggling. It sounds easy enough but actually reaching out? That can be one of the hardest steps of all. Knowing who to talk to is one thing. Figuring out how to talk to them is quite another.
So today, we’re diving into that space between intention and action, the emotional weight of opening up about your mental health, the fear of how others will respond, and how to start conversations that feel daunting, but necessary. Whether you're someone working up the courage to talk about your struggles, or a loved one wondering how to respond with care, this post is for you.
There’s a moment that many of us who’ve struggled with mental health know all too well, when the silence begins to weigh heavily. It’s not just a silence you carry inside yourself, but one that stretches between you and the people you care about. You might be surrounded by friends or family, even smiling and laughing, yet still feel like you’re behind a pane of glass. They see you, but not all of you. And when that silence grows, the question becomes impossible to ignore: Do I tell them? Should I talk to my loved ones about my mental health?
I recently found myself at that crossroads in a conversation with my boyfriend. Up until then, he knew there was a mental health journey, but not much about it. I finally felt it was time to open up a little more and let him see beyond the surface. And while there’s still more of my story left to share, I trust we’ll get there when the time is right. What I’ve learned is that breaking the silence doesn’t have to mean telling everything all at once, it can be about opening the door, just enough, to let someone step a little closer.
Let’s be clear: you don’t have to tell anyone. There is no rule that says you are obligated to share your mental health story with others. You are allowed to move at your own pace and to hold your experiences as privately as you need. But for many people, not talking about it begins to feel like another kind of burden. It can feel like hiding. It can erode connection. It can lead to guilt, shame, or the sense that you’re being dishonest, even if your silence was a form of self-protection.
Not talking can also create space for misunderstandings. People often sense when something is off, and when they aren’t given an explanation, they fill in the blanks themselves. That’s when distrust can sneak in. Loved ones may begin to feel shut out or assume they’ve done something wrong. And when you do finally open up, you might find yourself fielding questions like, “Why didn’t you tell me?” or “How can I trust you if you kept this from me?” It’s a painful position to be in. and not one with easy answers.
Deciding to talk to someone about your mental health can feel risky. On one hand, opening up can bring immense relief. You’re no longer carrying it all alone. You might receive support, comfort, and connection you didn’t expect. The relationship may even deepen. On the other hand, disclosure is vulnerable. Not everyone knows how to respond well. Some people get scared. Some try to jump into “fix-it” mode. Some back away because they’re unsure of what to say. So, there’s a very real emotional cost to consider.
If you’re weighing whether to talk to someone, try asking yourself: What’s the cost of continuing to stay silent? For some, the act of silence begins to isolate them from their own support system. For others, it becomes exhausting to pretend everything is fine. When the burden of hiding becomes heavier than the fear of sharing, that might be your signal to open the door, even just a crack.
When you're ready to talk, remember: the conversation doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be honest. Some people find it helpful to start small. You might say something like, “I’ve been going through a tough time, and I don’t really know how to talk about it, but I wanted you to know.” Or “I’m struggling with my mental health, and I don’t need advice, I just need someone to hear me.” Others find it easier to write it down first, or even practice with a therapist. Whatever your approach, it’s okay. You’re allowed to ask for support in a way that feels manageable to you.
Of course, once you do open up, there’s often another layer of complexity: the reactions of those you tell. Some people will surprise you with their compassion and steadiness. Others might not know what to do. And in some cases, not having told them earlier can lead to confusion or hurt. You might hear frustration or feel guilt, especially if someone says they feel betrayed for being kept in the dark. In those moments, try to speak from your truth: “I wasn’t ready. I didn’t know how. I was scared.” That honesty is more meaningful than any perfect explanation.
Now, if you’re reading this not as the person struggling, but as the loved one, someone who wants to be supportive, it’s important to talk about what happens after someone opens up to you. For many people, the instinct is to rush in and “save” them. You might want to check in constantly, offer advice, or subtly monitor their behavior for signs of crisis. These reactions are understandable; they come from love. But they can also make the person feel like they’re being treated as fragile or broken. That can lead to even more withdrawal or shame.
The most supportive thing you can do isn’t to hover, it’s to be present. Ask what support looks like for them. Say things like, “Thank you for telling me,” or “How can I be here for you right now?” Give them the space to articulate their needs, and trust that they still know themselves better than anyone else. Often, what people need most is to be heard and accepted exactly as they are, not as a problem to solve. Just as important as how you respond to them, is that you take care of yourself. Supporting someone with mental health struggles is emotional work. You’re allowed to seek support too. You’re allowed to have boundaries. And you’re allowed to not have all the answers.
Whether you’re the one carrying the weight of mental health struggles, or someone who loves a person who is struggling, please know this: you’re not alone. These conversations may be uncomfortable. They may be clumsy and emotional and imperfect. But they matter. They are acts of courage. They are how we build bridges back to each other when the darkness tells us we’re alone.
This Suicide Awareness Month, I hope you find the courage to speak, or the compassion to listen, or both. We need each other more than we know.
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