My Best 4 Years

 “I remember your bare feet, down the hallway. I remember your little laugh.” 


      I have to talk about something hard today, because my heart has been hurting.

     My little brother came into the world on September 24th of 2012, and made my heart so full of love. He was the child of my father and his wife, so my half-brother, but I never felt so close to someone. He had bright blue eyes, and the second I saw them I was locked in. He was so perfect and pure. He hadn’t made any mistakes yet, and didn’t have time behind him where the world messed him up. I vowed to protect him, no matter what, and never stop loving him. 

     Having my little brother made the time spent with my father easier. He made me laugh and smile, and I knew I would be okay because he lit up the room with his smile, or dancing. 

     He gave me the best hugs.

      He was ticklish on the bottom of his left foot, and he used to scream when I blew raspberries on his tummy. He couldn’t function right if he didn’t have juice when he woke up in the morning. The thing I loved most about him was when he squeezed my pinky finger with his tiny, tight fist.

I can still feel you hold my hand, little man.

     Things got tough in the few years I was with him, as most of you know. I made a very hard decision to leave my father’s house after the abuse got too bad. 

     With that, came the consequence of losing my precious, baby brother. I knew this. I thought I was prepared to leave without him. 

I remember your blue eyes, looking into mine, like we had our own secret club.

     When I knew what decision I had to make, I couldn’t stand to look at him. One of the nights before I left, I ended up having to babysit him. He was with me in the living room, dancing to Pharrell’s “Happy”, his favorite song at the time, when I just burst into hysterics. He stopped dancing and sat in my lap with his Cheerios. He didn’t understand why I was crying. I didn’t want him to understand.

     He started laughing, then realized I was crying and put his fingers on my chin. “Tay Tay, was wrong?” I didn’t answer, obviously, because that made me cry even more. He then put out his finger, circling it around my nose and making a bzzzzzBOOP noise, something we did to each other. “Tay Tay okay?”

      I just smiled at him, tears falling down my face like Niagara Falls at this point. “Tay Tay okay.” 

     He stood up, wobbling on his heels and bent down, kissing me with his eyes open. 

      “I love you, I love you, I love you.” I remember repeating to him. 

      “I wuv you too.” He said, stretching out to escape my hug. He walked away and started playing with his firetruck. 

     That was the last conversation I remember having with him. I wish, more than anything, I would have made it last longer. I would have made him hang on a little longer. I would have kissed him harder. But I didn’t.

     I don’t regret leaving my father’s house a bit. With any decision comes consequences. And this is a consequence I will forever have to deal with. 

     I can’t protect him anymore. I can’t see him anymore. My sister updates me all of the time on how he is, what he’s learning in preschool, what joke he made. Without her, I wouldn’t even know he was alive. He doesn’t know that I am who I am. He refers to me as “Amber’s sister.”

     That breaks my heart.

     I have a song for him, that I listen to when I miss him more than usual. I encourage you to read the lyrics, though they don’t fully pertain to my situation. I’ll post a link to the song as well.

I remember your bare feet down the hallway
I remember your little laugh
Race cars on the kitchen floor, plastic dinosaurs
I love you to the moon and back

I remember your blue eyes looking into mine
Like we had our own secret club
I remember you dancing before bed time
Then jumping on me, waking me up

I can still feel you hold my hand, little man
And even the moment I knew
You fought it hard like an army guy
Remember I leaned in and whispered to you

Come on baby with me, we’re gonna fly away from here
You were my best four years

I remember the drive home
When the blind hope turned to crying and screaming “Why?”
Flowers pile up in the worst way, no one knows what to say
About a beautiful boy who died

And it’s about to be Halloween
You could be anything you wanted if you were still here
I remember the last day when I kissed your face
And whispered in your ear

Come on baby with me, we’re gonna fly away from here
Out of this curtained room in this hospital grey, we’ll just disappear
Come on baby with me, we’re gonna fly away from here
You were my best four years

What if I’m standing in your closet trying to talk to you?
What if I kept the hand-me-downs you won’t grow into?
And what if I really thought some miracle would see us through?
What if the miracle was even getting one moment with you?

Come on baby with me, we’re gonna fly away from here
Come on baby with me, we’re gonna fly away from here
You were my best four years

I remember your bare feet down the hallway
I love you to the moon and back

https://youtu.be/7WiGTaD1VRc

     Tay Tay always loves you, Austin Ray. To the moon and back.
Until next time,

Tay❤

Take a Risk, Take a Chance, Make a Change

“I spread my wings and I learn how to fly.”

     Today’s blog is relatively cut and dry, because I just needed to get this all out there. I’ve seen a lot of posts on social media about how people are “scared to do this” or “scared to do that.” People. We can’t let fear run our lives. 

     While fear can keep you safe, it’s not exactly your best friend when you’re attempting to broaden your horizons. 

     It’s not easy to step into unknown territory, where you’re not exactly sure how far it is until your feet hit the ground. Some stay away from the idea of New, because it’s out of their comfort zone. 

     But what if no one ever tried anything New? What if our entire lives amounted to nothing, because we were too frightened to step outside of The Comfort Zone? There would be no Picasso, no Shakespeare, no Johnathan Larson. The world would never know of Beethoven, or even Oprah Winfrey.  

     These names are known to the world because they all had the courage to do something that scared them, and became successful because of it. 

     Not every single one of us are destined to be widely known and infamous for our choices in life. It’s just not realistic. We can still take away from those that are, and establish the notion into our own lives. 

     Maybe if you take a chance, you’ll earn a promotion at work. Or take the risk of wanting to go cliff diving. There are benefits to every experience you have. Sometimes, that benefit may just end up being the life lesson of “well I’m never doing that again..” In the end, you learn and grow, and that is the most valuable thing. 

     If you don’t take risks, you’ll forever be sitting in your bed with the sheets to your chin. You won’t have a life. 

     Swallow the fear and jump into the water head first. 

     Just imagine what life would be like if no one took chances. It would be a colorless, monotone world to live in. How sad that really is. 

     Get out there into the world, and pack fear into your suitcase. 

      Stop living your life just because you’re scared. You may be on the brink of something so incredibly beautiful.
Until next time, 
Tay❤

I Hope You’re Somewhere Praying

       (One year since the publishing of You Will Not Win)

     People always ask me “If you could change what’s happened to you, would you take it all back and redo?” And in all honesty, I have a lot of difficulty with an answer for that question.

Well, you almost had me fooled. Told me that I was nothing without you.

     It’s been hard not having my dad. I used to see fathers with their little girls, hand-in-hand in the street and go cry for 30 minutes in my car. Sometimes, I still do. It isn’t easy. I didn’t have him to teach me how to change a flat tire, and I will never have the father/daughter relationships you see on TV. I see baby pictures of us or hear stories from my birth and just want to cry. My friends have their fathers on Father’s Day, and for me it is the saddest day on earth. It is hard sometimes to not be wanted by someone who is supposed to want you.

      No child deserves to be abused in any form, whether it be physical or verbal. I wish I could have hugged my father, or felt like he loved me back. I wish I had that.

..and after everything you’ve done, I can thank you for how strong I have become 

     But, I don’t think I would be the same person I am right now had I not been through the abuse situation with my father. It has changed me in so many ways, I don’t even know how to count them. Through this experience of sharing my story, I have encountered many people, who I would not have had the opportunity to meet had this not have happened. 

(I was obviously not doing too well. 2015)

     While I had a lack of a father, I was raised on the idea that I don’t need a man to survive. My mother and my aunt were always around, and they are two of the strongest women I know in this world. Sometimes, when there are bugs or car trouble, we may buffer out for a moment, but we always figure it out.

     I am a stronger person because of everything that has happened in my life.

     So no, to answer that question, I don’t think I would take anything back for one second. 

     The healing process over the past year hasn’t been easy. There have been bumps and scrapes and stalls, even points where I thought I didn’t want to go on any longer. 

Cause you brought the flames and you put me through hell. I had to learn how to fight for myself. And we both know all the truth I could tell. I’ll just say this is I wish you farewell.

      In my original post of You Will Not Win, https://taylorenicholl.com/2016/06/16/you-will-not-win/ this poem was supposed to be included, but at the time I felt too vulnerable to post it. I’d like to share it with you now because I feel it is important.

    Blue collars and

     Strong cologne.

     I skip to the door as you arrive home. 

     And you smile.

     And we laugh.

     And you love me.

     Blue collars and

     Strong cologne

     You say I’m in trouble through the telephone.

     And you’re mad.

     And I cry.

     And you spank me.

     Blue collars and

     Strong cologne

     I stay up crying into my pillow

     And you sleep.

     And I sleep.

     And I still love you.

     Blue collars and

     Strong cologne

      It’s 5 years later and I’m home alone

     And you’re drunk

    And I’m scared

    And I’m lonely.

     Blue collars and

     Strong cologne 

     You’re bringing home girls that I don’t know

    And you kiss

    And I think

    And you don’t know.

     Blue collars and

     Strong cologne 

      You’re in a fit since I was on my cell phone

     And you’re red

     And I’m bleeding

     And I don’t know if you love me.

     Blue collars and

     Strong cologne

     I’m the one drunk and you don’t know.

     And you’re always mad

     And I’m always sad.

     And you don’t care.

     Blue collars and

     Strong cologne

      I’ve gone too many bruises to hold

     And your knuckles

     And my shoulder

    And my heart.

  

     Blue collars and

     Strong cologne

     I’m finally free of your cruel chokehold

     And I finally know

     That the truth was

      You never

       Loved me.

     Child abuse affects more than people tend to realize. It isn’t just physical scars left on you. Scabs heal and bruises fade away, but what we are left with is calluses on our heart and injuries to our brains that stay for a lifetime. 

     I am forever changed, forever healing. As much as I have tried to convince myself otherwise, I will always be healing. There will always be pieces of my puzzle that need to be reinforced, or parts that are missing. I could spend all of this time filled with anger towards my father for the way I am, but I have come to the conclusion that I can’t change it. When I’m scared of men, or I flinch with loud noises, I must be patient with myself.

 (These people are very important to me.❤)

    We can sit around all day and play What If with our lives. What if we chose this path instead? What if it worked out the other way? What if we hadn’t experienced this? 

     At the end of the day, I am me. And even if I wasn’t enough for him, I’m going to be enough for me, no matter what. Anyone else who comes along can either take it or leave it.

I hope you’re somewhere praying, praying.

I hope your soul is changing, changing.

     I refuse to be bitter, I will only be better. I won’t be defined by the demons of my past, despite how dark and twisty they may be. 

Sometimes I pray for you at night.

Some day maybe you’ll see the light.

Some say you’re gonna get what you give…

     I won’t spend my time on earth hating what used to be. 

    The past year since I published You Will Not Win has been an eye opener for sure. I have too many people to thank to put in this blog, so if you’re reading this and you need to be thanked, thank you ❤

     It’s been 2 years since I left my dad’s house, and it is only now that I am starting to feel truly free. 

     

    …but some things only God can forgive.


     Until next time,
     Tay❤
This song means everything to me:

Praying by Kesha

https://youtu.be/v-Dur3uXXCQ

Maybe

il_570xN.581857591_qhhd

“Betcha he reads, betcha she sews. Maybe she’s made me a closet of clothes! Maybe they’re strict, as straight as a line. Don’t really care, as long as they’re mine.”

-Annie 

 

I’ve had a strange attachment to the musical Annie since before I could remember. It makes sense. Little orphan, longing to belong in a family of her own. In my own way, I related to Annie on a multitude of levels. I felt abandoned by the majority of my family at a very young age, and still to this day, at 18 years old, I find myself feeling like an orphan even now. Spoiler alert, at the end of the movie, Annie gets her happily-ever-after with Daddy Warbucks, sings an epic song, and everything is great.

No matter how many times I watched the movies or sang the songs, I still woke up the next morning with a broken family.

It wasn’t easy by any means, especially growing up loving everything to do with books and movies. Everyone gets their happily-ever-after. Cinderella gets her Prince. Annie gets her family. I was set up for disappointment from the moment I opened my brain to the world of literature. Happily-ever-after happened to everyone. Perhaps I thought if I kept reading, if I kept watching, mine would eventually catch up with me.

Even at 18 years old, I dream about waking up to a happily married mother and father cooking breakfast together, smiling and laughing almost instinctively. I dream that they love my siblings and stroke their hair behind their ears to smooch the peak of their foreheads. And we all sit. And we all smile. And we all are one. I dream that I have a grandmother who didn’t leave me the second she got the chance, and instead is gentle and likes to tell jokes and smile really big, maybe even sometimes an uncle or an aunt pops up into these dreams.

It’s naive, I know. I’m aware of the childish aspects of this dream of mine. But it’s as if I can’t help it.

I don’t write this blog as a means for anyone to feel pity for me or my situation. In fact, I do almost the exact opposite. I want to open your eyes to things you may be oblivious to. Don’t take it for granted. Don’t take your family for granted, whether it be the way your mother looks at your father after he cracks the same joke for the hundredth time that day, or the way your siblings wave to your parents with pride when they spot them in a crowded room. When you complain about the way they nag on you for your grades, just remember some of us don’t have that luxury.

Despite the years gone by, I still have hope in my heart for a family one day, whether it be of my own or to watch someone else I love grow a family I can watch from the sidelines.

Maybe the truth is, we don’t all get happily-ever-after. I’ve come to the realization that if we were all happy in this world, it would be a strange world to live in. I mean, just imagine walking down the street to see everyone with a smile. We would all be the same. We have to have some people out there be unhappy. If we never knew cruelty, we would never know happiness. So in a way, it all balances out. If I have to take one for the team and be unhappy, so be it.

Still, when the dream comes to me every so often, I find peace within myself in the few moments before I completely come to in the morning, because at that point I’m not aware that it is not my reality.  Just imagine having a family filled with so much love and happiness you can hardly stand it. Unfortunately, we have to face what cards we are dealt with. And I wasn’t dealt the hand I long for at times. I can’t cry about it though. And maybe, rather than having my happily-ever-after all the time, I’ll settle for those few moments every now and then when I wake up from those dreams. I’d much rather feel the love and warmth of my dream family than never having it at all.

Besides, like Annie tends to say, the sun will come out tomorrow. 

Sometimes the sun comes out with a family, sometimes it doesn’t.

Either way, it will all be okay. It has to be okay.

 

 

Until next time,

 

Tay

 

Watch Your Mouth

“Loneliness is one hell of a drug” -Kurt Cobain

     I’ve never been the center of attention. In fact, when things get to be about me I tend to freak out a bit. Birthday parties were a stressful time as a child for me. They still are. I would much rather take the day to spend it loving someone else. I love theatre, never wanting to be on stage, but rather enjoying the presence of the techie life. I can’t stand things revolving around me.

     That being said, that doesn’t mean I enjoy being pushed to the side like I’m nothing.

     I feel that because I excuse myself from the spotlight, I am automatically cast into the wings of the world where people are put to seem as if they do not exist. But I do. I do exist.

     I feel and I breathe, and I cry and I bleed just like everyone else. And maybe I’m just a leave-able, use-able person. And maybe I’m just feeling extra sorry for myself tonight.

     People don’t understand what their actions do to others sometimes. When you toss someone to the side, you ruin them. You have ruined a part of them that will never be a whole again, no matter how small that part may seem. 

“You’re annoying.” You say. Or you cancel. Or you aren’t there for them. Or you choose someone else. Or you ignore them. Or you belittle them. Or make fun of them. “That idea is stupid.” Or even worse or them all, you leave.

     Picture them as a glass plate. Every time you do something hurtful to them, you’re causing more damage. It could be as tiny as a chip from an accidental drop, or as large as completely shattering them. Either way, they will never fit together the same again. 

     We are so hurtful without even realizing what we do is damaging. We get so caught up amongst ourselves that we forget about how we make others feel with our actions. Think about that next time you say something to someone, or throw them off as if they don’t matter. To you, it may seem like it is nothing. It may even seem like it wasn’t a big deal. But to them, it could have shattered everything that is left of their ceramic.

     At this point in my life, I have become acquainted with the idea of people not sticking around long enough or staying true to their word. It doesn’t hurt me any more. But to others, this could be completely new. This could be what feels like to the end of the world to them because they just do not understand what is happening.

     It is not them.

     Watch your mouth. Watch your hands.

     I am fragile and weak at times. I bend and I break easily. Sometimes, I don’t say things right. Or, in most cases, say things at all. I am flawed. I let people walk over me a lot more than I probably should. I will never have the balls of Meredith Grey to just come right out and say “Pick me, choose me, love me.” But of course, I’ll always wish you did.
Until next time,
Tay❤

Letting the World Change my Smile


“Smile, though your heart is aching. Smile, even though it’s breaking.” 

I am pissed.

And not in your sassy, perky, know-it-all, typical teenager way.

This is different

I’m so angry I can hardly breathe or move or hell, even write this blog.

I want to understand. No,

I need to understand.

Since when did it become okay to be so hateful to each other? Your friends. Your peers. Your loved ones. These are people. We are people. And yet we sit here and hate so much.

We hate on social media by hiding behind computer screens and the vibrant glow of our cell phones.

We hate in person by laughing and pointing, or ignoring at all costs.

We hate to mask our own self impurities by pointing out what we define as flaws in others. Because as long as there is a problem in someone else, we no longer have to address the issues within ourselves, right?

Since when did it become okay to be so cruel?

I grew up thinking that everyone on earth had the same thought process and love in their hearts as I did. Maybe that was dumb on my part. To be quite honest, I did read Peter Pan a few too many times. I’ve just always thought kindness was an instinctive response. 

And I guess because of that instinct of my own, I automatically assume that everyone else is first to show kindness as well. But they’re not. If anything, it is the last thing they feel the need to do. 

Nobody is kind anymore in this world.

(Disclosure. I know a handful. And I keep them very close to my heart.)

Humans are exhausting. Many do things for the sole purpose of benefiting themselves, or for their egotistical mindset. I never understood the world and how so many people could really do the awful things that they do.

And here I thought for a while, “It’s just petty high school drama.” But it never ends, even when your tassle is on the left side of your head.

What used to be “My best friend is talking bad about me behind my back” turns into even bigger things that take a giant toll on your heart. High school is nothing compared to the real world. In fact, the two places have nothing to do with whether or not people are shitty. They’re shitty no matter where you go.

My heart is rather worn and tired. And I’m not even to my 20’s yet. I shouldn’t have to say things like this, but I genuinely feel as if my heart cannot take anymore cruelty from the people of this world.

“You’re just a teenager, quit whining.” Says the adult, perched with one hand on their hip and their choice of alcohol in the other. “Nothing lasts forever.”

You’re right. I am a teenager. And I’m probably whining a lot right now, so you’re right about that too. But this is very real for me. People are horrid. People are mean. And I’m having a hard time understanding it. When I don’t understand something, it tends to take an even greater toll on me. And for me, who has only been around for 18 years, this is the only “forever” I’ve known. This feels like forever.

For those of you who understand what I feel, or are maybe going through it yourself, I want you to know that I applaud you for still finding the courage to crawl out of bed everyday. The world is a nasty place.

Your friends aren’t friends sometimes. And you may feel lost, and alone, but everyday you smile and show gratitude and kindness to everyone who comes your way.

That is truly the good in the world.

So, why you may be seeing a lot of bad, a lot of evil, a lot of horror and deceit, let this ring true;

No matter how shitty people may be, you can have a glimmer of hope inside of you knowing that somewhere out there, there is someone just like you who feels and hurts beside you. And that as long as there are smiles on faces and a sun in the sky, there is at least some good in the world.

I, at least, have to believe that this won’t last forever. But that doesn’t mean that people don’t suck right now. 

Or maybe it will last forever, and we will just learn how to not be so affected by it.

Whatever works, I guess.

Until next time,

Tay❤

You Are Too Alive (Suicide Prevention)

You roll over in the morning, your eyes aflutter with distant dreams of the previous night. You breathe in your first breath of air into your lungs, readying them for the hours to come. And it is beautiful, whether you know it or not.

If you open your blinds, daylight falls through the slits and cracks and onto your face, warming your skin to the touch.  Beautiful without having to try.

As you go downstairs, your mother greets you with the same, lovely smile she has greeted you for years. Only, it seems to grow lovelier with her age. She wants to know how you slept. She wants to know if you believe that the test in 4th period will be easy, and you tell her of course because you can’t let her down. And she smiles and smiles, and she is beautiful.

At school, your friends greet you with their cynical commentary and obnoxious laughter, but you love every minute of it because without them school days would drag by. You see the way their smiles form in the depths of their cheeks and glide across their lips like it is the most natural way in the world. And they are beautiful, even in the times of gossip and sorrow.

Your favorite class period is spent in the auditorium, rambunctious chatter echoing through the acoustics and you fall more in love with the lights above your head every time you step in place. For one small moment you wish you didn’t have to spend any more time rehearsing the same damn lines over and over, but you couldn’t. you wouldn’t. trade the moment for anything in the world. Your monologue protrudes through the room, with beautiful written all over it.

And the hallways. Cramped and crowded and noisy and smells of puberty. Regardless, the carpet welcomes your steps, and people stop to wave hello to you, even when your hands are filled with binders and papers and note cards and snacks you forgot to put away at the bell. You walk it now with the routine of friends always by your side. And the hallway is beautiful in itself, because it knows all of your secrets. All of the jumping, stressing, running, rushing, sobbing, hollering, skipping, talking, scolding. It sees the parts of you that aren’t always beautiful.

Class never receives a dull moment when you consistently raise your hand. If you know that x equals a number, or that the inventor of electricity was a genius. Even on your worse days, they rely on you for answers that only you can begin. You’re beautiful. Class is beautiful. It is all beautiful.

You come home to a house smelling from top to bottom with scents of dinner. You sit down with your family. Dad who had a rough day. Mom who continues to smile. And your siblings who always crack down their inspiring comedies. And from third person you see everyone laughing and conversing on politics. From the inside you can’t wait to fall asleep, but on the outside it is beautiful.

You make it to your room and stuff yourself in with the thick comforter and thin sheets. They envelope you as if they were made to fit your weary body. And you sigh the sigh of relief and wondering. And as you turn off your lights, your mind, your body, your beauty radiates with excitement for awakening tomorrow morning.

But what if you didn’t?

What if you decided that whatever going through your mind had become enough for you to handle?

You didn’t roll over the next morning, because of the previous night’s endeavors. The fresh air in your lungs never was gifted to you, and the world loses some beauty.

You never stood up to open your blinds. Your skin remains cold, instead of warmed with the brilliance of the sun, and the world loses some beauty.

Your mother was smiling as she usually does. Humming to herself a song of great love. But she never heard your feet touch the wood of the floor this morning. So she goes to check on you. She never gets over what she finds. And her smile never returned, and the world loses some beauty.

At school, your friends wait for you. When you don’t show by the first sound of the bell, they figure that you had car trouble. You’ll be there soon. You’ll be back in time for lunch, for the latest gossip. You’ll be there. But you won’t be. And the world loses some beauty.

Your favorite class in the auditorium is silent, because now, your siblings have been removed from school for the day, and word has spread about the terrible thing you have done. And your director is hiding behind her desk. And the students arent rambunctious. They don’t dance. They don’t sing. They don’t laugh. They cry. They cry a lot.The lights are off, and the stage remains solemn. Other students are coming to this class to find the last piece of you that you left. They’re trying to piece it together.  But they can’t, and the world loses some beauty.

The hallways remain as cramped and crowded as they always are, but they are moving slowly. There are whispers about you from classmates who barely knew you. Is this true? They wouldn’t dare do such a thing. But you did. And your friends don’t walk the normal routine, because it is impossible to be normal anymore without you here. They picture at any moment for you to run around the corner and catch up with them, to skip and holler and converse. But you won’t be joining them. And the world loses some beauty.

Class is dull. Because rather than the smiling person who always sat, there is a desk that reeks of emptiness. Your teacher refuses to teach, because who else would raise their hand? And the world loses some beauty.

At home, there is no dinner. There is no table-talk. There is no smiling Mom. Your dad comes home early, and for the first time ever, he cries. He cries so hard. And the dogs wander about, wondering when you’re going to prance through the door. Your siblings don’t say anymore jokes, because they can’t comprehend that you’re gone. And the world loses some beauty.

Tonight, no one enters your room. They don’t want to remember. They want it locked up forever, your comforter becoming incredibly lonely with every passing day that you don’t return to envelope in. They miss you. And the world loses some beauty.
Live.

Because you are so alive. With the sun radiating onto your skin, or enjoying every moment your life has to offer. You should embrace everything life hands you, despite whether or not it is deemed as worthy of your appreciation. 

Don’t waste. 

Don’t take anything for granted, because one day it could very well be gone.

You were given this book of life to continue reading and writing, editing and loving. Just because a writer comes to a dead end, never does it mean that they must stop. You pave the rest of your path, and start from scratch.

Life is beautiful, if only you open your eyes to notice. 

So stay.

Finish writing the book of your life.

You are too alive to do anything different.
Until next time,

Tay❤

#stopthestigma #suicideawareness