I would be an ungrateful person if I did not first acknowledge Kaiden, Ari, Katie, Laurie, and Jill who have been so so so supportive. Who never got enough credit. Who actually deserve all the praise. What I'm saying below is only my perspective and decision. Not theirs. They are the most incredible humans that I wish everyone could be so lucky to know.

I didn't publicly demonstrate this past week. The first time since week 50 as we faced down the final stretch to week 300.

I just can't do it right now. Just as with week 50, I've found myself believing it's hypocritical to stand there and claim I'm an advocate if I have a part in impacting someone's mental health for the worse. Even if it's not intended.

Many will say that's too rigid. Too hard on myself. But as someone who listened to many preachers growing up, and heard many sneers about hypocrisy, I told myself that no matter where I ended up in life, I would try and walk the talk I gave.

Have I failed many times? Yes. Has it led to me feeling like I'm in impossible situations? Yes.

Demonstrating has always been public. Even in the last year, where most people stopped listening, I've taken it very seriously about being there each week and talking about the importance of mental health. It shaped how I've lived my life over the last 6 years.

It's worried me when I have a moment of anger towards a frustrating driver. If I honk is that hypocritical? It's worried me when I've interacted with anyone on a bad day. Was I unkind even if I didn't mean to be? On the phone when receiving the worst customer service, and getting overcharged 3x what I was quoted, I would panic that asking to speak to a manager, and being strong, made me a hypocrite. And at week 50 when I found out a psychiatrist did not support my demonstration and her partner said I demoralized them, I loathed myself. How could I claim to care about mental health if I was impacting theirs? I moved places and rearranged my week to make it work. When Calvin’s mental health declined and I grew more and more frustrated with carrying the mental load, I constantly worried about whether it was hypocritical to speak up about mental health when I was struggling with ours.

And now, I’m faced with something that I don't know how to fix. That I feel broken about. But that has made me feel unable to demonstrate.

I can't say much more than that. But I've hit a place where I feel unable to find a solution.

For a long time I've been discouraged. Being an advocate has made me cynical and angry. I've learned so much about politicians. How most don't actually want to shake things up once elected. I've learned how people are used as pawns by the Opposition. I've learned that being a person with mental illness makes it hard to be taken seriously because you can be dismissed as too unwell to listen to. I've learned how few people care about mental illness once you moved past light anxiety. People do not have space or understanding once it becomes inconvenient and there's no quick fix.

Watching friends getting turned away from the hospital has broken me. Watching them not get the help they need has sent me into a rage.

Then there's knowing I would never be admitted if I needed help, and that if I ever tried, and was turned away, it would be fatal.

I've watched powerful advocates fade away. People with power go quiet because they support a government official, and to speak up would be seen as traitorous.

I've seen government twist their actions and claiming success. I’ve seen promises not kept and people with ability to keep those promises not so much as acknowledge it.

Outside of systems that fail, I'm seeing the tide switch among people I long thought would be understanding of mental health. Speaking out against psychiatry. Saying horrible things about those with mental illness. People who don't see the worst of mental illness pointing fingers and saying “don't mix me in with THEM.” I’ve seen complete denial of what mental illness can do to a person.

I've grown more and more frustrated by having 3 minutes to get a message out there in the news. Being interviewed and having no idea what will be taken from what is so personal. Knowing they will choose the “clickbait” from the interview or that it could be scrapped all together with no explanation. They have every right, but it's still hard.

All of that was wearing me down. All of that I was trying to deal with.

But this. I can't. I will not be the preacher who says one thing and acts another.

All week I've wrestled with how to go on.

I won't unroll and wave the big sign. Won't stand there and face the public. Won't announce the weekly reminder loudly.

Today I sat behind the wall with my little sign facing the building. No one could see me and that's my intention. I'm not going to miss a week, but I can no longer claim to be a voice when I have failed so miserably.

I'll whisper. No one has to hear me. No one has to see me. But I still need to say it. Because I might be a failure, but the message is still true.