Having nearly died by suicide six years ago, I can imagine what people would have said about me. They would’ve talked about my deep depressions, my unpredictable rage, how lost I was.
Maybe, like you, they would’ve said that I was better off dead. Maybe, like you, they would have callously remarked that some people with mental illness can’t be helped.
Here’s a letter for you, Amanda, from someone “beyond help.”
You were right to judge yourself for exploiting Leah’s story, because it’s exactly what you did. You took the life of a mentally ill person and diminished it, deciding to use her struggles for your own personal gain.
Mentally ill people do not exist as entertainment for you. They do not exist as a sensational story to tell. They are not a product for your consumption. We are not property, we are not objects, we are not paychecks for you.
But ethics were never a consideration for you, Amanda.
Let’s look at the facts: You celebrated the death of a mentally ill person. In doing so, you told people everywhere, “Some people with mental illness are better off dead.”
And you believed it, too, it was the crux of your entire essay. You, a self-declared expert on mental health recovery, have decided that some people with mental illness would be doing themselves and the world a favor if they died.
I want to ask you something. What did you think you were offering the world in writing this? What good do you think you were doing? I can’t see the good, but I can see the immense damage and pain that you’ve caused my community and myself.
I can think of a mentally ill teenager that would read your essay and say, “Maybe I can’t make it after all. Maybe I’m not supposed to.”
I can think of a society that already stigmatizes mental illness saying, “See? Sometimes they’re just crazy and there’s nothing to be done.”
I can see relatives of mentally ill people saying, “Just give up already. There’s nothing we can do.”
I can see a police officer pulling the trigger, deciding in a split second, “He’s crazy, that makes him too dangerous.”
Mentally ill people die because of attitudes like yours.
They die because they stop believing in their ability to recover in a society that tells them they can’t. They die because the stigma around their illness – stigma that was rampant in your essay – prevents them from seeking out help or accessing treatment. They die because their support systems abandon them. They die because law enforcement ends their lives.
We are the victims of violence and trauma because we encounter people every day who see us as less than human – people like you, who believe that being crazy is an invitation for tragic mistreatment and even death.
Six years ago, they might have said that I was beyond help. They sure liked to emphasize how severe my disorders were, how dysfunctional I was. Like your “friend” Leah, they might have said that death spared me from a life of institutions and burdening my loved ones.
(Maybe an asshole ex-friend would’ve made a buck at xoJane talking about my life with bipolar disorder and borderline personality disorder. A kid can dream, right?)
But let me explain something to you, Amanda.
I wasn’t beyond help.
And it took six medications, and it took a psychiatric hospitalization, and it took a hell of a lot of support from the people around me (who, no doubt, felt the burden of my illness at times), but I am slowly but surely climbing out of the depths of severe psychosis and depression.
People counted me out for years, thinking that I could never reassemble my life after mental illness had torn it apart. But those people were wrong.
And you were wrong.
You don’t get to decide, Amanda, which of us are “beyond help.” You also don’t get to decide which of us deserve to live. You don’t get to decide who has a chance and who doesn’t.
Leah could’ve had a chance – and while you toss confetti on her grave, I can’t help but think about all the people that would’ve done the same to me prior to my recovery.
It’s easy to take a glance at someone’s suffering and count them out. It is difficult – and it’s called empathy, you should try it sometime – to see that person as a whole human being that is irrevocably worthy of care, validation, and support.
Leah was deserving of that and more, not death – whether or not you believe it, regardless of what your essay says.
There are so many people like Leah in this world, grappling with severe mental illness, who are told that they will not or should not survive. They’re counted out before they’re ever given a chance to live. They’re reduced to their illness and denied their humanity by people like you.
But every mentally ill person, including Leah, deserves the chance to live their life and pursue recovery on their own terms.
And every mentally ill person has the right – the goddamn right – to be treated with dignity.
I know that there’d be a lot of confetti on my grave if I had died six years ago. But I’m glad that I made it through. And I’ll tell you why, Amanda.
I’m glad because I am still here to fight for mentally ill people. People who are considered too much, too sick, too crazy. People who are written off before they’re ever given a chance. People like Leah, and people like me.
Because we don’t deserve to die. We deserve to live, and not only that, but live to tell our stories the way they should be told.
Not by people who want to exploit our struggles, but by us, celebrating the people we’ve become because of them.
Leah doesn’t get that chance. But there are people out there who still can.
And I hope they take your essay with a grain of fucking salt.
Let's Queer Things Up! 
Reblogged this on The Missal.
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This is truly moving. Thank you so much for sharing this with everyone out there.
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She should have been given so much more of a chance, so much more help and support. This event should go down in history as a terrible mistake that as society we will look back on in disgust.
Thanks for writing this.
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I’m 18 years old and I have an inborn cataract. I’ll be in third year college soon. Some says, what’s the use of studying when sooner or later I’ll be blind.
Well. I don’t know why. But I love studying and going to school. Maybe one day. I will be able to only see darkness around me. But It doesn’t mean I should stop myself now just because of that cruel future I am bound to have. As long as I can still see. I will live my life to the fullest. And I’ll never forget how I enjoyed myself from the beautiful colors of life.
Thank you 😊
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Danakammy, I was born with congenital cataracts in both eyes and I was told by my doctors that one day I would have surgery to correct it, they just wanted to wait until the last possible moment. When I was 16 I started going blind and so they did the surgery. They removed the clouded cataract lenses and replaced them with clear implants. Without my glasses I now see 20/40 and with my glasses I see 20/20. I’d like to think there is hope for you too? Have you talked with your doctors about that?
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Bravo! People with mental illnesses are nobody’s entertainment stations.. Well written piece.
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It was an arrogant, stupid essay. Amanda Lauren needs humility therapy. Sadly, she probably is beyond that now.
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Now this is the best thing I have read in quite a while. Amazing!
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Bravo! Very well said
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Very well said. I suffer from depression that leaves me unable to concentrate or function.
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“People counted me out for years, thinking that I could never reassemble my life after mental illness had torn it apart. But those people were wrong.” – I’m glad you proved them wrong. It is up to those of us who suffer from mental illness to reduce the stigma associated with it and bring forth awareness. I applaud you.
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Thanx for Your Words, Your Active Message and for Being You.
I am , of the Mentally Happening, the Truth of Being of All Real and Make Believe. Present of the “What the Fuck” Blank Stares, in front of those that Smile and friends of those that bow In laughter.
I am true of the deepest anger, of not understanding the Concept of Time or Place. Death has nothing to do with Life, Every Word Spoken meaning a different Prose and Pose. Did they say or did I find a Stone that spoke like you said like this Thought, just Now.
I am able to Write this and Say this. Make this and Dream this. Did you not say the SAME? Am I wrong or did I make you Smile.
I am Jeff, I am Mentally Ill, Hospitalized 9 times and living the greatest of Life. I am a Hope Writer, Psychology PH.D., Comedian, US Marine Corps Combat Vet, Lover and very much Crazy.
We need to stick together and be this way and say, “We Are You but not exactly, We are Fucking Plum Crazy, I am so sorry you are not.”
I feel sorry for those that do not cry for no reason, those that never answered the phone and spoke a conversation about that thing, that did not happen, the phone not in that room.
I would hate to be the Human that never saw something so beautiful in a Stuffed Animal that Real became Real. Two Moons in the night sky, so excited that the entire Town had to be disturbed, once again. Fuck it, did they all get out together and saw at least a Moon? They all got together and Saw the friggin’ Moon.
Yes, I am and We are always remembering the Way, the Way of Thus and Thou and Life Doubts. Talk About the Not Knowing and Screaming into a Death Walk, nothing said at times and So Be It.
We walk not in silence, We make out the Screams and make Dreams. Nothing for Real, at least in Your World but All in Every Thought and trying to Be. To Be as Me and not as You.
Believe inside of the Light because you never said Good Night or that sticks and stones made silly ass bricks.
Ubuntu, I Am Because of You…
Jeff
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Thank you!!! We need more honest stories. Nobody is beyond help! Shame on you, Amanda.
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Thank you for sharing yourself and your fight for those living with Mental Illness.
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Interesting. I wonder why some people claim to have the ability to solve a problem when they’ve not really sat down to think it through. There’s even hope for a tree when reduced to a stump that it will grow again. That thought should never be stolen from any heart
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I don’t know you, but as someone who has lost many loved ones from suicide and who has attempted numerous times herself, thank you. Thank you for sharing something about yourself that is very difficult to discuss in mediums such as this, available to anyone with an internet connection. I applaud your strength and willingness to put yourself in such a vulnerable position, in order to help others. Thank you.
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Thank you for writing this
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Thank you SO MUCH for posting this. Those of us actual experts work side by side with our clients to encourage self-efficacy, involvement in treatment, and fight tooth and nail against this type of stigma. It’s so amazing to know there are other warriors out there fighting the good fight with us! I’m so sorry this young lady’s life was lost (and the millions of others like her, who died of mental illness). The fact is, there has never been more help available, for those who are able to access it. But many people are unwilling to because of the stigma that still exists. I hope your words have made a positive difference to someone who may think they are beyond help!
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