Stigma

I realized something about me and stigma the other day.  I was talking to a co-worker.  I know her well enough, but we don't often talk about really personal things.  In the course of the conversation I said something about the anti-depressants I am taking.  It just came out before I had a chance to think about it, filter it or worry about what her reaction would be.

Not so long ago there is no way I would have said this to her.  While rationally I knew that the stigma around mental illness and depression is only that stigma, emotionally I didn't really believe it.  Actually, as I write this I realize that I am still not 100% there.  On some level I still feel weak, I still feel like there is something I could do to make this better.  I still have trouble accepting depression as an illness.  I still have trouble accepting me, all of me, the way I am.  I'm not sure I have ever admitted this out loud before.  Amazing what writing will make me realize.

This is not where I was expecting this post to go.  Instead of the good news story I was prepared to write about, I now have something I need to sort through.  This realization has left me very anxious - which is my usual emotion when I don't know how to handle something, when I don't know the outcome.  I have learned in the last 3 years however, that these moments are not the end of things, but the beginning.  Admitting to the things that are hard for me usually is the start of coming to terms with them.

There is a good news story out of this though.  Firstly, I am more comfortable with me than I used to be.  This is evidenced by the conversation I had the other day.  Secondly, my own beliefs about depression are out in the open now.  I can start to face them instead of having them buried and coming out sideways.