As a woman who seems so open about many things included the very embarrassing experiences in her life, I’m actually not THAT open. I hide some stories inside my chest and bury them in every abandoned corner of my heart, hoping it’d soon be forgotten. And there is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you. You understand that part, right?
People have told me to be more open about what I feel, but it’s hard when you already see me as one thing, and then I have to reveal the opposite of what you see. It’s hard when whatever you see in the surface doesn’t even represent half of what remains underneath.
As much as I seem to talk a lot and be honest about things I see in my surrounding, I actually spend more time talking with myself and lie about my feeling. My entire life suddenly consists of me playing one role to another. Being me that is always happy, talkative, enjoy hanging out with friends, and being me that is depressed, anxious, and sometimes scared to interact with people. I’ve already lost count of how many times I mentioned that I’ve been dealing with anxiety and depression. Someone recently asked me if I was planning to tell my boyfriend about it. It’s something I have never been itching to do, and honestly, it kind of caught me off guard.
I’ve never been great at stringing words to perfectly narrate my condition as mannerly and clearly as possible to someone who actually sort of aggravated this already existing illness. It’s difficult to do all that when everything I really wanted to do was raging non stop like a crazy monster about how he treated me like crap and how I didn’t deserve to be treated this way at all. It’s hard to talk when you’re in so much pain. But it’s a different kind of pain, not like flu, or high fever. But a few days ago, I finally managed to tell him about my mental health condition.
Another reason why I’m afraid to open up: I’m afraid that instead of getting the support, I get judged by them, they stay away from me because they think I’m weird and crazy. I’m afraid they don’t take my story seriously. Because sometimes they still see completely functioning like those non depressed people. I’m a high functioning depressive, obscuring its symptoms with a mix of meds and talking to my doctor.
Talking to my closest ones could provide a sense of relief and be the first step to get the support that I need all this time. How will they help you if you don’t let them know what you’re going through? So I told him eventually by sending a long ass messages and talking on the phone whilst trying not to shed a tear. I’m glad that he understands. And to my surprise, he’s quite supportive, considering he used to be such an asshole. Maybe I should’ve told him earlier so it could lessen the damage. He said so, but then again, it’s hard to talk about it. However, I’m glad I finally did.
I know it’s weird how I wrote everything on my blog and he didn’t even know about it until that night. I didn’t tell many people about this blog, though. I used to think it’s embarrassing to let a lot of people take a peek at all this mess, to read what I truly feel inside because the reason I write is just to get all burden off my chest, not because I want people to read it. But now I don’t think I have to hide it because my friends need to know why sometimes I seem so distant from them. They need to know why I often disappear for a few days or weeks and then pop back out of nowhere. Maybe it can help those who feel the same thing to open up, and to get the support they need. No need to feel shame, you’re not the only one tripping down into the rabbit hole of depression and anxiety. Let’s open up and get the support that we need.