I used to be unafraid to share my diagnoses with the world. I believed strongly in breaking stigma by boldly sharing my story.
I even started a small Facebook initiative to encourage others to charge their stories. I called it “Come Out Crazy”.
I found solace in being openly me. I couldn’t be ashamed of something I wore on my sleeve.
Then I started to really get better, and suddenly I didn’t want anyone to know that I was anything but normal.
Years of preaching mental illness pride evaporated and I disappeared into the shadows. I wanted to forget myself that there was anything wrong.
Now that I’ve been hospitalized again, I’m even more ashamed to share my struggles. I don’t feel like I fit the profile of an anorexic girl, and so I don’t want people to hear me claim it.
I’m in the worst place I’ve ever been in terms of acceptance of my illnesses. I want to move back out into the light, but darkness is hard to break free of. Darkness is safe.
Either way, shame over who you are is a crushing feeling.