My sister was worried about me – I was an asshole of a brother and for some reason tried to traumatize her by showing her the cuts on my arms. She didn’t really know what to do or how to help, but she told my parents. My parents were confused, lost, upset, and kept asking “Why do you think this way? Why can’t you just think happy? You have everything going for you!!!”
They had the hardest time, I think. They didn’t know the extent of what I was going through, but they did their best to find out. Their approach wasn’t the best – my parents have always been kind of overbearing – but they did it out of love and I appreciate that. Sure, they violated my privacy – looking at my IM chat logs, for example – but they really wanted to help. They called MH crisis lines for advice, tried to get me to see a counselor (miserable failure), lost their shit when they finally saw my cuts…
My friends were… dismissive. It hurt. There was such a taboo around MH issues that people just downplayed it. Kind of a “everyone has bad days, you think you’re the only one?” or “you really need to get out more” or “stop being so emo.”
It crushed me. I needed them, so despite their ignorance, I clung to them. At some point in time, I realized some friends were going to brush it off, and so I stopped talking to them about it.