Yet when I started this blog...I was still kind of afraid in a way. I started it on the premise of being anonymous...because I was afraid of what people would say if they truly knew what I had been through. I was afraid of being judged and of putting myself in a position for others to hurt me.
But then I realized that I was in a better position to help people if I came out and talked about what had happened in my life in the open. There was no reason to hide the things that had happened...and by letting myself feel ashamed of my past...I was going against everything I taught other people. I was just inhibiting my own recovery, and my ability to help others going through the same things.
Even as time has gone on...I've been careful about the things that I say and about truly putting my face out there. After the article went out two years ago...it threw me for a loop how many people recognized me on the street. It made me a little uncomfortable.
But two years ago I was still learning. My father was still alive. I still felt like there was something I needed to hide.
I'm not hiding anymore, and I encourage others to join me. There is no reason to be ashamed or hide your past. Especially in situations that were caused by others around you. (Thanks to Joe Alven for taking the new blog pictures for me last week!)
So whatever you've got...put it out there. I want to hear stories about my readers. What brought you to this blog, what kind of hell have you been through, and what have you learned from it? Even better, I want to hear from everyone that is GLAD they went through what they did.
Be strong. Be brave. Say what you mean.
And don't hide from your experiences.
Hey sweetie!
ReplyDeleteI have been following you since the beginning, and I admire your courage and tenacity. When I first started blogging, mine too was very private. Partially to keep from wounding those I talked about, partially to help hide the pain a little bit more. Like you, I found out that hiding the pain does not make it any easier to deal with. Rather, it just causes it to fester and ache beneath the scab.
My story isn't very unique, but it's mine:
My parents both battled depression, extremely so. When I was 13 my dad actually attempted suicide. Right before I turned 16, my mom was admitted into the pysch ward for suicidal thoughts and tendencies. My younger brother also attempted suicide when he was about 23 (I think?) Anyway, all of that to say that I know what it is like to grow up around depression. I began to be depressed around 12, by the time I was 14 I was so depressed I began to self -inflict harm upon my body. My favorit method was to starve myself. There was so much in my life that I COULDN'T control; so much that I felt was spinning away from me. I felt like most of it was my fault, and that I could do nothing right. The fear and anger and lack of self control in my family was all my fault. If I could starve myself, then I could control my punishment for being such an awful person. I began to have a food disorder, though not one with an official name.
By the time I had reached 24, I knew something was very very wrong. It was not until my brother told me I needed help IMMEDIATELY than I began to understand what I felt was not normal. I was in counseling at that point...it was not going well. I was finally diagnosed as Type II Bipolar (which made soooo much sense!) I began to understand that what I felt was NOT normal. Also, I could see that I had been bipolar as a child as well. So many of the things I felt and experienced starting making sense in my life. I went on meds, but they did not help. I switched psychiatrists a year later, and went on Abilify (an a-typical mood stabilizer) which I am still on, and has helped to level out my moods. I also suffered from SEVERE anxiety. I know take fluvoxamine for that, and it too has helped me be able to leave my house without having a panic attack.
There was a lot of emotional abuse in my childhood. It shaped me into someone who was terrified to do anything wrong; someone who was terrified of rejection, of screwing up and being ignored. I have since been able to overcome that; I am stronger because of it. I have empathy for people that I could not have had had I not experienced what I did as a child. I know how to mentor and reach out to hurting young girls. I understand depression in a child/teenager. I understand how deep the darkness can grow, how far the roots of rejection can reach.
I know now that broken people do broken things. There is no longer any blame or anger in regards to my childhood. Life goes on; people grow. I wanted to tell my story to keep reminding myself that I am stronger. I am whole. I am okay. I love reading your blog, and I hope that you keep on blogging...and maybe...just maybe...my story can influence someone too!