In case you haven’t seen it yet, I recently completed the biggest creative project I’ve ever worked on: The Christmas Goat. I’ve had the concept for years — a story about a father trying to make Christmas magical for his daughter while quietly carrying his own darkness. Over time, I developed it, refined it, and finally spent the past few months pouring countless hours into writing, recording, voicing, editing, and producing it.
Every single image — yes, AI-assisted, because I’m not an illustrator — took direction, trial and error, and intention. (Future article about people dismissing work like this as “AI slop” coming soon.)
The heart of the story is simple:
It’s okay to reach out when you’re hurting.
You don’t have to go through it alone.
I didn’t create it for views or attention. I created it because someone out there might genuinely need that reminder.
So when I finished it, I thought Reddit might be a meaningful place to share it — a place where people who are struggling could see a story encouraging them to reach out. But I didn’t want to dump a YouTube link into a support space. I wanted to be respectful. So I contacted moderators of several mental-health subreddits to ask if sharing the video would be allowed.
The Ask
One of those subreddits was r/depression, a community with almost 330K weekly visitors — people who are vulnerable, hurting, and seeking connection. Here’s exactly what I sent:
“Hi, I don’t want to go and just upload this video without approval and I understand if it’s not allowed to go up. I created a Christmas story about mental health and it being okay to reach out. Can you let me know if this is okay to post here or not? Thank you for your time.”
A polite question. Transparent intentions.
The Response
This is what I got back:
“Absolutely not. Read the rules!
We strongly recommend that you don’t share this kind of toxic positivity in any support spaces.”
And then I was muted.
Muted for asking.
Not for posting anything.
Not for arguing.
Muted for asking permission so I wouldn’t break a rule.
No clarification.
No conversation.
No compassion.
To make this worse, I later checked my YouTube analytics. There were zero views between my original message and their response. They never even watched the video. They didn’t consider what the message actually was.
They weren’t reacting to The Christmas Goat — they were reacting to the idea of something hopeful.
Let’s Talk About “Toxic Positivity”
“Toxic positivity” is real, and yes — it can be damaging. Telling someone deeply depressed to “just smile” or “think positive” is invalidating. It pretends pain isn’t real. It pushes it deeper.
But that is not what my story is.
The Christmas Goat does not say:
“Pretend you’re happy.”
It says:
“You don’t have to pretend you’re happy anymore.”
It’s about honesty. Vulnerability. Reaching out. Admitting you’re hurting. Encouraging someone to seek connection rather than withdraw into silence.
There is a massive difference between:
“Cheer up!”
and
“You deserve support.”
Only one of those messages is harmful — and it isn’t mine.
The Harm in This Moment
I’m not claiming every support space online behaves like this — far from it. There are communities doing incredible work helping people navigate real darkness. But what happened here in r/depression is a perfect example of how gatekeeping can actively harm the conversation.
When someone comes forward with something meant to help, comfort, or connect — and they’re met with hostility, shame, and silence — it tells everyone watching:
“Hope isn’t welcome here.”
That doesn’t protect anyone.
It silences them.
A subreddit that large carries influence. Tone. Responsibility. And when moderation chooses to punish an attempt at support rather than engage with it, the ripple effect is real — not just for me, but for the next person who might have tried to reach out and now decides not to.
A Quick Story About Punishing Effort
Years ago in Portland, I stood in front of a recycling station with half a dozen bins. I had a paper plate and napkins in one hand and a plastic fork in the other — and I didn’t want to get it wrong. A worker asked if I needed help. I lifted my left hand and said, “Yeah, this is all paper.”
He immediately snapped:
“THAT’S NOT PAPER!”
…while pointing at the fork in my right hand.
My response was something along the lines of, “No shit, that’s why I’m holding up this hand.” I paused briefly and said “Fuck it, here”, and proceeded to dump it all in a random bin. “You can dig it out if it’s that important. People like you make me want to NOT recycle.” Because when trying to do the right thing gets you scolded, the motivation disappears.
That’s what this kind of moderation does. It doesn’t encourage healthy communication — it punishes the effort.
Who benefits from that?
Nobody.
Muted for Asking
I wasn’t allowed to reply.
I wasn’t allowed to clarify.
I wasn’t allowed to explain the message of the story.
According to the moderator, there was no room for context. No discussion. No nuance.
And that is the core problem:
You cannot foster healthy mental-health conversations if you punish people for trying to participate in them.
Hope is not the enemy.
Reaching out is not a threat.
Condemning and muting someone before understanding what they are trying to share isn’t support — it’s control.
Support Should Never Muzzle Compassion
The Christmas Goat encourages vulnerability, not suppression. It encourages reaching out, not hiding. It encourages connection, not isolation.
If a message telling someone “you can ask for help” is unwelcome in a space dedicated to depression, then that space has drifted away from its purpose.
Support should never punish hope.
Compassion should never require pre-approval.
Silencing someone who is trying to help doesn’t keep people safe — it keeps them alone.
Hope isn’t toxic.
Gatekeeping is.
Final Thoughts
I want to be clear: I’m not writing this to shame that moderator. I don’t know them or what was happening in their world at that moment. What happened here was a mistake — and mistakes are okay. We all make them. What matters is whether we learn from them.
My hope is that anyone reading this — whether they help run a community or simply exist in one — takes an extra second before reacting this way. Protecting people matters. Boundaries matter. But shutting down hope or silencing someone trying to help only denies support to the very people those boundaries are supposed to protect.
If even one person watches The Christmas Goat and thinks:
“Maybe I don’t have to hide this. Maybe I can talk to someone.”
— then the story did its job.
And if that idea isn’t welcome in a place meant to help people struggling with depression, then the problem isn’t the story.
It’s when gatekeepers forget who the space it supposed to be for.