So I did it. Last night I gathered my courage, and the words I'd written about my mental health journey, and I set them free at the Beam On exhibit in a room inside the Old Town Hall in Newmarket. Surrounded by beautiful artwork, I added my voice to the visual manifestations of mental illness. And I was heard.
 
It's one thing to share your story on the screen, to send it out into the internet ether and let your words speak for themselves. It's a whole other world when you get up in front of a microphone and let people peek at your heart for six minutes straight. But I did it, and I couldn’t be more proud of my role as a mental health advocate. I met so many lovely, encouraging souls last evening, and it meant the world to have my favourite people on the planet in the audience. Thank you to my mum, dad and sister for showing up for me, like they always do.
 
When my husband first suggested we bring our four-year-old daughter, Eve, to the event, I wasn't sure. Would she be bored? Would there be any other kids there? Would it run past her bedtime? But Michael didn't care about any of that. He simply wanted Eve to see her mama being brave and giving a talk that might help some other people.
 
There are so many days when I feel like a parent on the sidelines, not participating in things because of fluctuating moods or chronic pain, so it felt wonderful for me to show her what I CAN do, for a change. How I can contribute to an important conversation, raise awareness and show people what it looks like to survive a collision with mental illness. How it's possible come out of the darkness to the other side and tell your story as part of the healing process.
 
My favourite part of the night was when I finished my speech. As soon as the audience started applauding, my darling girl excitedly ran up to me and presented me with a single flower. Later on, Michael told me she what she whispered to him afterward: "Mama did a good job of not being shy in front of all those people." As compliments go, I'll take it.

Give these lip balms to my daughter
whose mouth she got from her father
Let her take these everyday treasures
she coveted from her mother's dresser
for there will come a day soon when
she will no longer want my possessions

Loan her the statue of Tara, the mother of all Buddhas
that I crossed paths with in Union Square
Let my namesake's compassion and feminine wisdom
seep into the deepest part of her childish heart 
as she sleeps tucked up in dreams
with her blanket half-on, half-off

Hand over the sketch of a forever family
to the little being who stretched two into three
Let her be reminded of love's eternal hold
and how it never lets go, no matter 
how many times we bump heads and bruise hearts
before breakfast

Bestow the patterned box of tissues
for all those blue tears and excruciating moments 
she won't feel good enough in her bones 
despite her parents' assurances that she is
everything beauty could aspire to and 
both the cosmos and universe to us

​I can get by with a sparse nightstand
an Ikea lamp, a perfume bottle and wedding bands for my hand
but I will hang on to the good mother sticker
and remember to pack it up when we move on
keeping it safe for when my daughter has a daughter
and she needs a daily reminder of her own