In the world that we all, to a greater or lesser extent, share, there is a stigma around mental health. In fact, scratch that, there is a stigma around asking for help. Many people, myself included, walk around during their day to day lives assuming that they are at constant risk of judgement by the people in their lives. “Is that guy at the coffee shop laughing at me?” “Do I look like I’ve been crying?” “Why didn’t I laugh when everyone else did?” But I’m going to let you in on a big secret, and I’m not even charging for this! Every person on this planet, at least everyone I’ve ever interacted with, is trying to “get away with something.” What are they trying to get away with? Being human. It’s as simple as that.
The need to “look normal,” and “appear competent” are wired into our DNA. The fear of being ostracized from the tribe is a crippling drive to keep hiding everything that we do—especially when we haven’t done anything at all. This crippling fear is doubly paralyzing when we already feel like we don’t have a tribe to begin with. But if my secret information is so simple, it seems like the solution should be simple too. Well, it is, and it isn’t. The solution is to start talking. That big bag of secrets and unworthiness gets pretty heavy on us—some of us more quickly than others. But the best news yet, is that there are people who not only want to listen to you, but they may even have some training to help you work with what comes out of that bag.
Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I have not always been this shining paragon of eloquence and mental health sitting behind my battered laptop in a pair of sweatpants and a coffee stained tee shirt. In fact, three years ago, before I found my current therapist, I was limping from self-induced crisis to self-induced crisis. I had days where I could barely drag myself into that office, where I sat with slumped shoulders, sweating my way through reciting my practiced lines. And then, it happened—I started talking. I admitted that I didn’t know what to do. I admitted that I was scared and confused. And the human being sitting across from me did the unthinkable—he listened to me with compassion, and he welcomed me back into his office week after week. He welcomed me back with my bag full of stories, lies, traumas, addictions, and everything that I thought was too ugly to ever let anyone else see. And then I felt the change… I walked into his office one morning, shoulders lifted, head upright, and I realized that I hadn’t brought my bag with me. On that day, I understood that all I needed to carry into that office was myself.
So, if you are tired of suppressing your thoughts and your feelings to spare others the horror of seeing your “bag of shame,” maybe it’s time to talk. Reach out and open your mouth. It’s an extremely courageous act, and it just might get you your life back.