Since writing (or being featured in) a number of pieces recently about mental health this week…I’ve had a number of commenters asking why I’m choosing to “air my dirty laundry.” Why, they wonder, do I want to share such personal information on the internet? Don’t I value my privacy? Or am I just hungry for attention?
What these commenters are really asking is: why do you talk about things as shameful and embarrassing as depression, anxiety and suicide?
What these commenters are really saying is: the things that you have written here has made me uncomfortable, although I can’t quite articulate why.
What these commenters are really wondering is: how can she be mentally ill and look so normal – what separates her from me?
The answer to that last question is: nothing. Nothing separates me from you.
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Of course mental illness affects how I live my life, but I am not my mental illness. Living with depression and anxiety certainly presents its own unique challenges, but those challenges don’t define who I am…As much as I’ve had moments of vicious anguish and misery, I’ve also had too many wonderful experiences to count. I’ve felt so much joy that my weepy little heart could burst. Living with depression doesn’t mean that I never feel the good things. I do. Even if they’re not what I usually write about, I really do.
If I were given the chance to go back and, knowing everything that I know now, decide whether or not I should be born, I would choose to be alive every damn time.
Anne Thériault, “Airing My Dirty Laundry,” The Belle Jar.
See also “#notmymentalillness.”
