I’ve been struggling to write this post for most of this week, and it’s not because I don’t have anything to say. It’s because I have everything to say, and I believe every part of this conversation is so important.
It’s because right now, I know many are struggling with depression brought on or exacerbated by current events. I would be lying if I said recent politics didn’t have a negative impact on my own depression.
It’s also because so many of these people are fighting for progress, even in the face of tyranny. These people have made it clear that they will not be silenced, that they will stand together and do whatever it takes to create a better future.
But most importantly, I know many people who have put themselves through mental and emotional turmoil to be part of this fight. Over the past two days I’ve seen many incredible images of activism and solidarity, but I’ve also seen dozens of women talk about how exhausting and sometimes triggering the Women’s Marches were. Some of these women spent days or even weeks hyping themselves up for the event. Some of my friends still found the idea too daunting come the 21st.
In some ways, sharing how much the marches exhausted them is the bravest thing these women did. The stigma against mental illness is an incredibly powerful force. It shames us into silence, sometimes so much that we don’t even think about seeking treatment. Often we don’t get as far as admitting to ourselves that there’s a problem at all. We push ourselves to seem normal until we break, and we either find a way to get better or die.
Our stories have power. Talking openly about our struggles with mental illness and the ways we push through the pain, the ways we take care of ourselves and make ourselves better, this is an essential and radical act. It is the first step not only to ending the stigma against mental illness, but also to our own personal healing.
For most of us it is also one of the most difficult things we’ll ever do. When I first started blogging, I didn’t tell anyone I knew about the blog. Partially this was out of a stubborn need to have my first subscribers/commenters not be related to me, but it also allowed me to be open about my struggles.
Inevitably some of the people I wanted to hide the truth from found my work, and I clammed up. I stopped telling personal stories and focused entirely on the writing.
There are all sorts of reasons why people – and authors in particular – choose not to share their personal stories online, but if I’m honest with myself there’s only one reason why I stopped sharing my own stories: I was struggling, and I was afraid to be honest about it. Especially with my family.
I don’t know if there was a precise moment, but sometime in late 2015 or early 2016 I decided the fear couldn’t win anymore. I write fantasy novels I say are for young(ish) adults, and if there’s any message I want to leave my readers with, it’s that they are powerful because of who they are, not in spite of it. And they can change the world, if they are willing to push through the fear.
So here’s the truth: I’m still struggling with depression and suspect I always will be to some extent, but I am pushing through the fear and the pain every single day. The stories I’m working on now are some of the most powerful I’ve ever written, and I am incredibly proud of them, but it’s been slow going because I can sometimes get too immersed in the darkness of my characters.
I’ve also decided that it’s time to start sharing more of my own stories with the world, not just the stories of my characters. These stories may be the most painful of all – there’s a reason I write alternate world fiction – but they matter. Every story is an opportunity to help someone see mental illness in a new way, to see humanity in a new way.
And what more could I hope for than that?
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