I need advice (Trigger warning- SH)

[ella]

^yes

[Benji]

*~Grace~* wrote: "So, not much to say. My will to live is on a thin line again. I'm failing myself and many other people. I have an amazing, and loving boyfriend. He is my everything. He makes me smile within minute..."

Preventing Self~Harm:
It takes a lot of strength to open up about what you’re going through, especially when it feels like everything is weighing heavily on your shoulders. You’re doing the best you can with the tools you have, and sharing your thoughts here is an incredible step. Navigating the complexities of your relationship, your own well-being, and caring for your boyfriend can feel overwhelming, and it's understandable that this weight is clouding your thoughts and emotions.

Releasing Self-Blame and Finding Compassion for Yourself:
In times like these, it’s easy to feel as though we’ve failed those we care about. But please know, you are not responsible for carrying the full weight of someone else’s pain. You’re supporting each other, and that’s a beautiful thing, but it’s essential to also nurture yourself. Allow yourself the grace of understanding that you’re only human, and humans have limits. Be kind to yourself—this is one of the hardest things to do, especially when it feels like self-blame is closing in. But you’re doing the best you can, and that’s enough.

Communication as a Bridge, Not a Burden:
Opening up to your boyfriend might feel daunting, but sharing how you’re truly feeling can help bring you both closer, rather than adding to the stress. You’re both navigating communication in a new way, and it’s okay if it’s imperfect. Think of it not as a burden to him, but as a way to deepen your connection and give him the chance to be there for you, just as you are for him. Taking small steps in honesty can help lift some of the weight, even if it’s just a little at a time.

Reclaiming Your Thoughts and Emotions:
When depression clouds our minds, it can feel like our thoughts and emotions are slipping away from us. But beneath this fog, your true self is still there. It’s easy to feel like everything is out of control, but every small act of self-compassion—like talking here—helps you reconnect with who you are. Sometimes, doing something gentle for yourself, like journaling your thoughts, even in fragments, can help you find clarity or at least release some of the pent-up emotion. Your emotions may feel distant, but they’re still part of you, waiting to be acknowledged with compassion.

Finding Safe Spaces to Share:
It sounds like trust has been difficult to find, even with family, and that’s okay. Trust can be built slowly, starting with people who feel safe, like your boyfriend, or even reaching out to a counselor or therapist. Finding someone neutral to speak with can help you process these complex emotions without fear of judgment. In spaces where you feel truly seen, you may start to uncover answers that give you strength and help you feel less alone.

Rediscovering Small Joys and Moments of Light:
Even in dark times, tiny glimmers of hope, like the love you feel for your boyfriend or the courage it took to share here. Can be anchors that remind you of your resilience. When life feels overwhelming, try to find small, nurturing actions to ground yourself, like listening to a comforting song, taking a slow walk, or breathing deeply. These moments may seem small, but they’re powerful ways to remind yourself that you are still here, and there’s more to come, even if the way forward seems blurry.

Please remember, you’re not alone. There are people, both in your life and beyond, who want to support you through this. Opening up here shows immense courage, and every time you reach out, you’re taking a step toward healing. Let yourself lean into this courage, one moment at a time.

Playlist: (I would never treat someone the way others have treated me! Surprised?) https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0K3...

When life feels heavy and shadows grow long, there are moments when music can be a lifeline, a note of hope threading through the silence. Every beat, every lyric is like a hand reaching out, pulling you back into the present, reminding you there’s something beautiful still within reach. Creating music, or even just listening to it, becomes a bridge from the dark places into light, where you can lose yourself in rhythm and rediscover pieces of who you are. It’s the art of turning hurt into harmony, of letting sound soothe and awaken the parts of you that yearn to feel whole again.

Then there’s the power of giving—a spark ignited in the quiet act of helping another. Like my friend Steph, who found her own strength reflected in the innocent eyes of children, she learned that being a pillar for someone else can shift something deep inside. Volunteering with kids, she started to see herself through their gaze, unfiltered and honest. In those moments, the weight she’d carried began to lift, piece by piece, as she realized her story held meaning for those who looked up to her.

Each day, she grew a bit stronger, not just for herself, but for the little ones who saw her as a guiding light.

And then came the question, small and soft but piercing—"Steph, what are those scars on your wrist from?" It cut through her like a gentle storm, stirring emotions she’d kept tucked away. Tears welled up, but in that moment, she also felt something shift. A calling, a purpose beyond the pain. She knew then that her story could be more than just memories of struggle; it could be a light in the dark for those who might feel lost.

Steph realized that her scars weren’t just marks of a painful past; they were symbols of survival, strength forged in fire. She became an example to the children, not because she was flawless, but because she was real, unafraid to be vulnerable. Her journey became a testament to resilience, a story that whispered, "You can rise from this. You can find light again."

In helping others, Steph found a mirror—a reflection of her strength, her compassion, her ability to heal. Her path turned into something luminous, an ongoing symphony of giving, healing, and loving, reminding all those around her that even the darkest scars can glow in the right light

Maybe an outreach program could work wonders for you as well.

P.S If you want to hear me speak these words:
https://audio.com/aquatic-misfit

[Benji]

For me, God has been my most trusted therapist, my most faithful listener. I speak to Him aloud, like Moses did on a mountain top.
My voice rising not in reverence to some unreachable power, but as a friend confiding heartache and hope. That’s how I was taught to pray as if I was speaking to a friend who knew and cared for every hidden heartache. In those moments, I felt my burdens lighten, His quiet presence lifting the weight I thought I carried alone.

"The Lord would speak to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend." — Exodus 33:11

His words, carved in the pages of the Bible, became balm to my wounds. My most wisest consular, a gentle guide on this righteous path. I made a silent promise to Him—an oath stitched together in the quietness of my beating heart. If He would grant me the strength to ease another’s pain, to be the hand that holds when hope feels thin, I would live for this purpose. So here I am, standing beside you, offering a glimpse of light, a lifeline, so you won’t have to endure the suffering I once knew. When I felt alone.

"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." — Psalm 34:18

In these words, let there be a whisper of solace, a reminder that you’re not alone. I’ve been where you are, and now, by His grace, I’m here to help you find the way through. Even if its temporary...

For if I could help guide someone out of the darkness to be that one person I wished for in despair. Maybe I could help change this world one person at a time for the better.

Because in my truest of pains. All of that suffering could have been avoided if I chose the people who cared for me instead of those that didn't. I may not have known how to handle my pain as a kid, but as a man. I would try to break the cycle that repeats.
To free someone else of invisible chains.