On January 3rd, 2016 I received a phone call from a friend that I met in residential therapy. As soon as I got the call, I knew something was very wrong, she took awhile to get the words out, but by the time she did, I already knew what her words were going to be.

"She was found dead."

as soon as I heard the words, I knew it wasn't an accident. It was a mutual friend we both met while seeking treatment for suicidal thoughts/depression/anxiety at Rogers Memorial Hospital Focus Program in Oconomowoc Wi. There was no accident in this. She was dead. She killed herself. Depression became too much for her, there was no going back.

In that moment, I felt something inside me break. The thoughts came saying "It could have been me," "she was a fighter," "This can't be real," "it could have been any of us" You see, I've had other friends die before, I've experienced that pain. But this was different. This was someone whom we all met in a place where we all hit rock bottom. When you go through residential treatment, you aren't just fellow patients, you are family. Through it all, you see each other in the worst of recovery and you see each other put in the work for a better tomorrow. The term battle-buddies takes a new meaning as this is the biggest fight we'd ever had to fight- the fight that was literally for our lives. The reality hit that not everyone from residential treatment gets a brighter tomorrow. That hits hard knowing that this was someone who worked the treatment, pursued therapy, medication, holistic treatment- you name it, she tried it. The first lesson this goes to show is that depression truly is a DISEASE. it's not made up, or fake. It's a disease and it kills.

She was an inspiration to so many that went through the program. She was the first person who came up to talk to me while at treatment, we had similar beliefs in God, and a background with the College CRU ministry. We bonded quickly over getting donuts from the gas station on the way back from church. She was such a bright light, and the only reason I got through my first few weeks of treatment. She always encouraged me to keep going. She wouldn't take anything but our best, and when she talked, she chose her words so carefully and so thoughtfully, you knew she meant them. She discharged a few weeks before me and would continue to message or call, so it kind of never felt like she ever left, she continued to support everyone even when she was struggling, that was the support that came from residential. We were family for a month and a half, we knew the worst of each other, and also what the vision was, and we raced toward it together.

Friends, please take this as a lesson. If you're hurting or suicidal or having a bad day — TELL SOMEONE. There is NO SHAME in being depressed. NO shame in needing help. Please. Reach out. Tell someone. Continue to fight.

This is the words from the last facebook status she posted two days before she died:

Vulnerability is something I value. It's something I strive for as a characteristic of myself. Vulnerability creates vulnerability.
Social media is a place where I see a huge lack vulnerability. Comments are commonly upbeat, and people post all the best things that's going on in their lives on Facebook, Instagram and/or Twitter. I know that I'm guilty of it as well as I try to fake it til I make it; not just lately, but for a while now, it makes me feel like I'm friends with people that I can't connect with. I know that's false largely in part to the fact that I go to group therapy once a week. Surprise there.
I say all this because I wish people were more vulnerable in their everyday lives. I wish people shared more of the difficult things so I could feel like I belonged on this planet more.

I hate dealing with severe depression and everything it entails.
It's frustrating having bad anxiety in which I don't know the cause.
I want to kill myself on a daily basis. No one wants to hear that one.
From time to time I struggle with self-harm.
It hurts so, so bad when a good friend decides they don't want to be friends anymore.
I hate feeling lonely.
It's stressful having a bunch of debt, and having to rely on my dad at 26 years old.
It's hard to not believe in God like I used to.
I don't like my job. (Having a college degree and working at a warehouse isn't the most rewarding, but right now, I don't have the motivation to get a new one.)
I don't like meeting new people.

To some, the above sounds like a lot of complaining. I could go on, but I feel like my point has been made. Life is hard. For me, I'd say it's unbearable sometimes. It's not all bad, sometimes I can smile, or laugh. I also know people have it worse than me.

Okay, I'm done ranting, almost. I'm not big on New Year's Revolutions because usually they last a month or two. This year however, I'd like to challenge my friends (the ones on Facebook) to be more vulnerable. Even if it's hard. No, you don't need to tell everyone everything, and if you need to, start small. I'd really like to see a more real world as opposed to one that seems fake.

... I wish I could have told her how much she meant to everyone. I don't know if it would have made it any better. But I wish I could have tried.

To anyone reading this, mental illness is real. My friend was someone who truly tried to get better but sometimes when the brain is broken it can not be fixed. She was a resident fighter, and so tired of feeling like we have to fake to appear "normal" Please realize that there is no normal. I wish I could tell her that now. I wish she could tell us that now.

This is a testament to how fully she believed in the power of vulnerability and community. There's a power there in the brokenness. I encourage you to try and be vulnerable with your story, you don't know who's feeling unwelcome by the illusion of "normal."