Recovery

It’s said that men’s mental health can be a silent killer. 75% of suicides in Canada are by men. The subject seldom comes up in conversation. Media outlets make it a topic during Men’s Mental Health Month, held in June, I had to look it up.

It seems to me the best way to tackle a problem is to jump right in and start a conversation. 2017 after my accident I experienced a deep depression that was acerbated by the struggles with insurance companies. I found myself having thoughts of suicide but not just of hurting myself I wanted to bring attention to what I saw as an injustice by the insurance companies. I saw my life insurance policy as the last option to support my family.

I did see a psychologist. Our talks did help. At that time I didn’t open up as much as I should have. Feeling defeated and worried that if exposed too much I would be hospitalized. I didn’t reveal that the thoughts I had were actually plans.

There is our problem, the inability to open up. Pride, shame, likely it goes back to our inability to ask for directions. If we were able to ask for direction, maybe we could find a way to receiving the help we needed.

A psychiatrist gave me a diagnosis of persistent depressive disorder with anxious distress. I was prescribed antidepressants to help even out my day.

Eventually, after two years I stopped having those thoughts. My anger with the insurance companies did not go away. It was no longer the front of my mind. There were times and there still are, mostly when I am alone, that I will fixate on them and the pain and anger comes to the surface again.

For a couple years everything was going well. I found an outlet for my anger and frustration through writing. I published my first book and had completed my second due out soon.

Out of nowhere the thoughts came back. What was the trigger, I could not say. The only thing that had changed was that there had been an increase in my headaches. More frequently and more severe. I was given a new medication to help with the headaches. The new thoughts started after I started the medication. The medication has no expected side effects of suicidal ideation. Taking a break from the medication has not stopped my thoughts from coming. They are now less violent but still there.

The biggest concern I have is that when I had thoughts of suicide in the past I wanted to expose the injustice by the insurance companies and to provide a financial support for my family. The thoughts this time have none of that attached to them. The only concern is to complete the task and how best to insure that it happens.

The first thought came to me while sitting on the deck with my dog. The sun was warm on my face and this violent thought comes over me. The thought became consuming. There was a deep sadness that came over me.

That afternoon I talked to my wife and let her know I was having thoughts. She talked to our grown children and they put a plan together. I was not going to be left alone. We played games, I sat through study sessions and we shared conversations.

A antidepressant was added, temporarily until a referral to the psychologist goes through.

I also contacted a local community health clinic for a counselling program. After my initial consultation a counselling plan was made.

Talking and being open about my mental health has come easier as time has gone on. Over the past few years I’ve been able to join in with a group of people that have survived brain injuries. They are very open about their own experiences. I had never given it much thought but they have had a positive impact on my acceptance of my new life.

Start a conversation, ask for directions.
Do you have a minute to talk, I think I need some help? There is no shame in asking for directions.

When is the best time to start a conversation? When your person says hi. When you connect on the phone, sitting down to eat, out for coffee.

Start the conversation. It is better to know that you needed help and asked than to hear you kept to yourself and you will be missed.

This time I have to focus harder on the important things in my life, the most important things that keeps me from completely a plan in the darkness. My family, their future, my future, being there tomorrow for them.

Having all of these plans in place has not stopped the thoughts from creeping in. The plans will give me tools to work through these days. Maybe I could have found my way out of the darkness again on my own. It is easier to walk the path when you are not alone. #SelfharmRecovery #BrainInjury #Recovery

Hi, my name is SlothLife. I'm here because I'm looking for lowkey connection. I'm dealing with some stuff. I could really use a friend, and I don't really have any.

#MightyTogether #BipolarDisorder #Recovery

We celebrate the helpers — the ones who patch the cracks, shoulder the burdens, and keep life moving for everyone else. They’re the quiet friends who always listen but rarely share, the family members who organize every detail but are never asked how they’re holding up. They are the caregivers who put meals on tables and comfort in broken spaces, often at the expense of their own needs.

⛔️ But behind that strength is often a silent truth: healing others can leave you empty.

Most caregiving doesn’t look like sacrifice on the surface. It looks like small, everyday actions — staying up late to help, swallowing exhaustion to appear strong, noticing when others are struggling and stepping in before anyone asks. This kind of labor is invisible because it’s expected.

Caregivers rarely make headlines. Their names aren’t attached to awards or promotions. Instead, they live in the shadows of “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” a phrase that sounds grateful but often misses the cost behind it. When everyone else leans on you, your own weight goes unnoticed.

Caregivers give because they love. They show up again and again because someone needs them. But love doesn’t erase the exhaustion that builds over time. Each act of care takes a little piece of the self — energy, identity, dreams quietly deferred.

There’s a contradiction in the role: saving others while slowly losing yourself. The giver becomes a vessel poured out until empty, and the world rarely stops to ask what remains inside. People are quick to receive comfort, but slow to wonder about the one who provides it.

Silence is what makes caregiving so dangerous. When we don’t acknowledge the toll it takes, burnout becomes inevitable. Helpers keep giving because they believe they must, because their worth has been tied to what they provide. But even the strongest wells run dry.

Naming the cost is the first step toward balance. It doesn’t mean love disappears or compassion fades — it means the caregiver is allowed to matter, too. Setting boundaries, asking for help, even stepping back are not failures. They are acts of survival.

💟 Stories, whether told in conversation or through fiction, can break the silence. They allow us to see what’s hidden, to reflect on lives lived in quiet sacrifice, and to ask uncomfortable but necessary questions.

Ravi Yaranian writes emotional and healing fiction. His upcoming novel, The Cost of Healing, will be released October 1, 2025. Follow him on BookBub for updates and new release alerts. Early review copies are available on Booksprout

#Healing #Trauma #Recovery #Addiction

Today I am an empty shell, a soul gone quiet. I see glimpses of someone I used to be— your smile, your laughter, the warmth in my voice. But they feel like distant memories that don’t belong to me. If you're not here… then where did you go? The ache of where you once lived. Wherever you are— are you forever lost? Will you find your way back to me? #MentalHealth #BPD #Recovery #thestruggle

Ever try to explain your thoughts and realize you just ended up oversharing by accident… again?

I’m a work in progress ❤️
#BPD #MentalHealth #Recovery