I attempted suicide a year ago. My life is not a tragedy.

Mental illness in the age of what I’d rather call extreme openness than oversharing, is a thing that has some extreme novelty in many regards. We’ve gotten used to sharing our lunches, our cat photos and our party polaroids. We read personal accounts of almost every little moment of our friends and online acquaintances’ lives. We live in some sort of state between an asynchronous livejournal and a megaphone.

Last year, on June 5th, I attempted suicide. I got myself plastered and tried to drive off a bridge. Luckily, I hit a tree and my car was not able to get to that bridge. I planned to write about this on the anniversary of the date but honestly the story on xoJane pushed too many buttons.

I’ve shared my story a few times. It’s important to me to be emotionally honest. I’m bipolar, I’ve been through Shit over the past three years. Family with addiction problems. Deaths. Loss of friends. Changes in jobs. Repetitively losing my wallet. My own addiction and obsession problems.

For someone to say that Eden as a person with bipolar disorder is not the “real” me, is intrinsically flawed. My manic and depressive states have had a huge effect on how I’ve grown as a person and how my perspective has evolved. It’s both been a challenge and a small blessing — I generally take some of the best risks when I’m manic. Some horrible ones too. I’m working on it.

Last year I was at a conference and a new friend asked me why I choose to be so emotionally honest online. I was looking for a job at the time, and it was only a few months after I wasn’t able to continue to work for the company I was working for due to my mental health.

I realized that I simply didn’t want to be some kind of beacon-of-the-best-life online. I didn’t simply want to be a musician, comedian, writer, developer, or whatever job I was doing in that hour. I wanted to be a human. I wanted people to be able to see that people can live and do cool things and also feel shitty.

I wanted people to know that the type of people who attempt suicide haven’t necessarily been parented poorly. They aren’t necessarily people with drug problems. They aren’t necessarily people who work in industries that our close-minded society decides to deem as deviant. These might be circumstances that people who have attempted or committed suicide have faced, but many times they are not. These people are humans. They’re humans that go through shit every day. Just like you. Just like me.

The fact is that everyone deals with sadness at some scale. Everyone deals with failure. With loss. Whether it’s with the burden of chronic mental illness or not, we all need to know we aren’t alone at some point.

Last year, when I decided to drive off that bridge, I felt completely alone. I travel a lot, and I was working remotely, and so maintaining friendships and/or romantic relationships has been very hard. It’s hard to keep up with friends that are in different cities that lead busy lives. It’s hard to not just see everyone inside of the little box we call an online personality.

I identify strongly with Leah*. I haven’t had a partner for a long time. I haven’t gone on a date in a long time. I am regularly naked on the Internet. I don’t really have a real job except for the ones I make for myself.

I can be incredibly delusional. I fight with my friends in selfish ways. Some of them have completely disappeared as a result. I post about the hardest parts of my life alongside the best parts. It’s therapeutic for me.

I’m not medicated. I can’t take medication and be able to solve logic problems which is pretty problematic as both a computer programmer and someone who produces their own albums. I try to get better every day. I try to be there for my friends, and my support system is both growing and becoming something I actively have to think about given that I live a pretty nomadic lifestyle.

All of this, is my choice.

It has an effect on the people around me, which I try to be aware of. I’m sure Leah was too. It may have been diluted by the shitty thoughts that can come up when the chemicals in your brain aren’t balanced. Am I a burden on those around me? Should I apologize for my behaviour? Am I valued in anyway? I can’t speak for Leah, but these are thoughts that I struggle with every day. Based on what friends have told me, they’re thoughts that many people struggle with every day.

I’m certain that there’s many people who view my posts in some sort of voyeuristic curiosity. That’s fine. But despite the fact that I live with a lot of mental health issues, despite the fact that I attempted suicide, despite the fact that I’m in a constant and fluctuating state of recovery, my life is most certainly not a tragedy. My death, I hope, would be seen as one.

It’s important to me that people are able to be open about their mental health and their tendencies. I truly believe it makes a huge difference. And I hope that people can see those of us who struggle with some empathy, rather than comparing themselves in a condescending, life-devaluing manner.

I am extremely sick. I need help, every day. I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for the help that I’ve received. I am grateful for it. I hope to pass on the compassion I’ve received.

My life is not a tragedy.

*Name was changed in the original article.