To be perfectly honest, I cannot believe I’m writing this. I can’t. A little over three years ago, I never would have guessed I’d be sitting at this rustic wooden table with a drink sitting on a stained paper napkin, trying to put to words what I’ve set about doing. In short, I’m surprised I made it this far.

That’s not a cute little saying or a, “Wow I can’t believe my life has brought me here.” That’s a, “Holy crap you actually made it to this point in time. You made it past countless thoughts and as many scares. Through relationships which drained you and accidents which surely could have ended differently.”

But what I’m truly shocked by is the number of people I’ve met along the way who have similar problems. Similar thoughts. Similar curses. Similar, well, everything.

I can’t say something didn’t trigger this. My sudden re-invigoration with the whole concept was not of my own doing or my own actions. Yes, I reach out to those in need. Yes, I’m an ear and shoulder for friends who don’t have anywhere else to turn. But no, I’ve never really considered myself one to feel this deeply on a topic which, for the better part of 5 years, I worked at hiding from others. Even my own family. It slowly built up. Story after story and phone call after email after text. Hearing and seeing and feeling everything in my world improve but looking back and realizing what, and who, I’m leaving behind.

About two months ago, I wrote a short article/rant thing which outlined my views on coming out from the LGBTQ sense. How absurd it is. How self-destructive the act can be and how silly it is for people to view that as a major part of their lives, not only for themselves but for their families.

In retrospect, I spoke too soon. I was fueled by a hatred of conservative values and too much sugar. Because I’ve thought about it. I’ve truly thought about what such a thing can mean to someone and how a defining characteristic of your personality can be so difficult for you to comprehend. To not necessarily renounce, but to accept. Because if you can’t accept it yourself, how can you expect others to?

Because, as I’ve heard many times and have said many times and just want to etch into the annals of history, the following is true: the sin defines the sinner.

I don’t mean this in a religious context. That much must be clear: this is not a theological piece. All religion is to be forgotten here and now. Left at the door. To truly understand what I am saying, I want you to drop the Bible and pick up the Chicken Soup.

This story starts with a girl. Someone who, for the time being, will remain nameless. I met her in December of 2014. Gorgeous. Talented. Athletic. The world at her finger tips. Anything she wanted or desired, she could probably have. What few things fell outside that definition would eventually be hers through hard work and a little bit of grit. A role model if I’d ever seen one, and an example of what a woman in this world is meant to be.

Last week I learned that she was in the hospital after attempting suicide. Though we were not particularly close (we talked occasionally and held a few common organizations close to heart), I was heartbroken. I don’t know what could’ve driven her to this. In hindsight (often 20/20), you could see the signs, but only if you were actively searching for them. Ambiguous tweets. Sharp turns away from hobbies and jobs. Observing up close, it was hard to tell if anything was changing as you saw her day to day, but from a distance that only occasional social media updates could provide, it became painfully clear that she was hurting and didn’t know where to turn. And that’s where this story begins: with an apology. I’m so sorry I didn’t reach out to you sooner, but I’m glad you’re still here.

Her fight, and the fights of many others have spurred me to start a new project. A personal one that I hope becomes interpersonal. A digital cork-board of stories, both signed and anonymous, which will permanently stand as a beacon of hope for the voiceless. With resources for help. People and organizations whom you may reach out to in times of need and sorrow. People who want to see you improve. Who want to see you get better. Who want your story to continue and be told to countless others.

So here’s to a continued story. To many continued stories which weave together to create an unimaginably complex web of intrigue and hope. Of love. Compassion. Kindness. Concern. Sympathy. Humanity.

Here’s to coming out into the light and searching for an abundance of people who are just like you and are ready to pick you up in your darkest times. A family in a non-traditional sense.

Here’s to my own confessional. To my acknowledging the issue I’ve struggled with for years and only recently have begun to fight. Because it is a fight. It will be long. It will be brutal. But it’ll be worth it in the end.

So for now, I leave you with this: your story is not over. It’s only beginning;

For these stories and resources regarding mental health and suicide prevention, please visit http://stories-from-the-other-side-iwmm.tumblr.com