Until November last year, I hadn't told anybody else this story: the story of how a conversation saved my life. Not even my parents knew this story, so know that I don't share this with you lightly.
How a single sentence changed my life
Not long ago, I posted some portraits of my friend Leigh, reconnecting with her for the first time since high school. It was during high school that Leigh's story intersected with mine: in November 2004, her older brother took his own life. Maybe a week or so later, her parents came to the school to talk to our entire year level about Ben, depression and suicide as part of a small memorial service. I cried the whole time: I didn't know Ben, and I wasn't particularly close to Leigh, but it really hit home. I had struggled and struggled through a lot of mental anguish, feeling isolated in my battle and in a lot of pain. This was before a time where R U OK? Day existed, before social media, before reading blogs that would later help me to know I was not alone. Stigma and misunderstanding surrounded the very taboo topic of mental illness more so than it does today.




