The Inbox Diaries — Edition 1. "I Check If She's Breathing Before I Go to Work"

Why I'm Writing This

Every week, strangers send me things they haven't told anyone else.

Not their closest friends, their colleagues nor the people sitting across from them at dinner every night.

Me. A stranger on LinkedIn.

I want to be clear about something before you read any further. I am not sharing these messages to expose anyone. Every person who has written to me deserves their privacy and they have it. No names. No identifying details. Nothing that would allow anyone to be recognized.

I'm sharing the pattern.

Because the pattern is the problem.

What I see in my inbox every week is not a collection of isolated struggles. It's a portrait of a silent epidemic. Parents, managers, HR leaders, teachers, and strangers from every corner of the world who are carrying something devastating, and carrying it completely alone.

They are alone because of the lies we tell ourselves to survive.

We lie to protect our kids, our reputation at work, and to avoid the judgment that still attaches itself to mental health like a shadow we can't shake. We perform fine so convincingly that the people closest to us have no idea we are falling apart.

And in doing so, we make it impossible for anyone to help us.

That's what The Inbox Diaries is about.

Not the individual stories. The universal truth inside them. The one that says: you are not as alone in this as you think you are. And the silence you're keeping is costing you, and the people around you, more than you know.

This is Episode 1.

Every week, strangers send me things they haven't told anyone else. This is what they're saying.

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I know what it's like to live in fight or flight.

When Maddie was struggling, I woke up every morning not knowing which version of the day I was walking into. Would she be okay? Would she talk to me? Would today be the day something got worse?

I went to work anyway. I sat in meetings. I made decisions. I answered emails. I smiled when someone made a joke.

And nobody knew.

That's the thing about this kind of fear. It doesn't look like fear from the outside. It looks like a normal person having a normal day. It looks like competence. Like composure. Like someone who has it together.

Inside, I was barely holding on.

I didn't talk about it. I didn't know how. I didn't think anyone would understand. And honestly, I wasn't sure it was safe to try.

So I carried it alone. Every day. For longer than I should have.

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Last week a woman messaged me.

She's a single mother of three. Her daughter has been suicidal since age 12. Every morning, before she does anything else, she quietly opens her daughter's bedroom door and checks if she's breathing.

Then she gets in her car and goes to work.

She shows up. Leads her team. Meets her deadlines. Answers every email. Presents to clients. Smiles when someone makes a joke.

All of it. Every single day. While her phone contains messages from her daughter she's afraid to read.

She told me she'd been completely alone in this.

Until she found this page.

She is not an exception either.

She is in your office right now.

In a company of 200 people, roughly 30 employees are navigating a child's mental health crisis today. Not last year. Today.

They are sitting in your Monday meetings. Responding to your messages. Presenting to your biggest clients.

And most of them haven't told anyone. Because they've learned, through experience or through instinct, that the workplace is not a safe place to be human.

A therapy referral, an EAP number. or a wellness app won’t cut it.

They're looking for somewhere to put it down for a minute. To talk to someone who understands their world without making them feel like a liability for living in it.

Most of them never find that place.

Every week I receive messages like hers. Dozens.

Parents. Managers. HR leaders. Teachers. Strangers from Switzerland and Brazil and the UK who found this page at 11pm when they had nowhere else to go.

The Inbox Diaries is where I share what they're telling me.

Not to expose anyone. To bear witness to what's actually happening in our homes, in our workplaces, in the silence we've all agreed to keep.

Because the silence is costing us more than we're willing to admit.

And because somewhere in your office right now, someone is checking if their child is breathing before they walk through your door.

They just haven't told you yet.

If you're a parent carrying something heavy right now: The Teen Signal Check is free, private, and takes two minutes. It helps you sort what you're observing into a clear zone with specific next steps. → Take the Teen Signal Check

If you don't want to carry it alone: → Join When Something Feels Off — a free parent community

If you lead people and recognise this in your office: → Learn about LifeLine Parent Workshops — practical support for the working parents in your company

The Inbox Diaries publishes weekly. If someone in your network is carrying this alone, share it.