Opening and Blossoming.

For a long time I've been hush-hush about my eating disorder; years passed with barely a whisper. The culprit: shame. I was embarrassed by myself.

People with mental illnesses feel a lot of shame. We've been conditioned, in a way, to believe that our mental health ought to be perfect, that we ought to be perfect. The tones with which I've heard mental health discussed range from gossipy and degrading to uncomfortable to downright vilifying. 

When I began to open up about my mental health disorders, I found myself handling a great amount of discomfort--on my part and the part of the person I was conversing with. But as I continued to handle my situation with honesty, I found that people began to share their stories with me. 

I made people uncomfortable. And then I made them comfortable.

Speaking candidly about these issues is important because, though the dissonance is strong in the beginning, people need to know they're not alone. That's reason number one: it helps break the stigma. Studies show that the more stigmatized people feel, the less likely they are to get the help they need and deserve. 

Reason number two is this: talking about mental health saves lives. Directly related to breaking the stigma, normalizing the experience of dealing with these disorders eliminates the intense feeling of loneliness that leads many to engage in dangerous behaviors. If these behaviors are fire, loneliness is oxygen. And aside from being dangerous, loneliness just really, really sucks.

Third, opening is blossoming. In being candid, I give myself the opportunity to grow. I don't have to take that opportunity--but I give myself that choice. When others ask me questions or relate to something I've said or make a halfhearted comment (that often ends up being legitimately meaningful), I learn about myself and about the world. I stretch my arms and wiggle my fingers in my own eternity--an eternity I am only able to embrace in these conditions.

Talking about it starts a snowball effect. In being open about my own struggles, I've seen others begin to share their stories. They release their own stigmas and perceptions of mental health issues, they reach more people, they begin to behold their own eternity. There is nothing more beautiful than seeing another person blossom.

I'll conclude with what I say to myself at least once a day, when I'm feeling that discomfort: Tell your story. You might be one person, but you make a world of difference. And if you can reach just one person, it's worth it. That would be enough.