After a hectic morning, I’m finally sitting at my desk with a cup of coffee, listening to thunder rumble and rain fall outside. And it’s finally hitting me that PLAY ON is—surprise!—out in the world for people to read. A week early. Because this little book has been anything but normal over the past couple of years. (Yes, its early arrival surprised me, too!)
I don’t want to turn this into a super-sappy post–even if I have been called sappier than a maple tree, but that’s not the point–but there’s a lot going through my mind right now that I’d like to share with you guys.
Right now, I’m thinking about the friends who become family.
I’m thinking about the nights when we just need someone to tell us “good night.”
I’m thinking about how sometimes, all we need is someone to ask, “Do you need to talk?”
I’m thinking about those who are affected by mental illness, whether or not they experience it themselves.
I’m thinking about the people who have their own corners to run to. Who hide behind their own locked doors.
I’m thinking about the people who feel broken. Scarred. Replaceable.
I’m thinking about those who are too scared to say that they can’t do life alone.
I’m thinking about those who fall, and who are desperate to believe that there’s something worth fighting for after that fall.
And I hope you know that there is.
There’s love. There’s so much love. And I hope you know that you’re worthy of that love.
When I started PLAY ON, I knew that Marisa had depression—that was part of the story. But that’s just it: it’s only part of the story—part of her story. See, there’s life outside of an illness—yes, you can have depression, and yes, you can fall to rock bottom, but you can also thrive after that fall. I promise.
Your illness does not define you. Your setbacks do not define you. Every single breath is a victory, and you should be darn proud of those victories.
PLAY ON was a blast to write. It also taught me so, so much about myself. And for that, I will be forever grateful to this little book.