A huge part of who I am and what I write about involves divulging some pretty personal stuff. I’m certain there are people who have read this blog before and thought, “I can’t believe she just told that to the whole online world!” Believe me, there are times I think that too.
I often reflect on this and have to remind myself why I do it.
If telling you about the mental anguish I have experienced or am experiencing makes you uncomfortable, that’s okay. If explaining to you that I have experienced sexual assault makes you feel weird or nervous for me, that’s okay too. You may not like to read that I have been so depressed before that I attempted suicide and guess what, I don’t like it either. It may be really unpleasant to hear about the pain I have endured, you may even think I’m whining. And that is totally okay, too.
For every story I tell, there are thousands of others that are far worse than mine. There are people who have endured and experienced pains like none I can imagine. But there are also people who know experiences much like the ones I have had or are experiencing a trauma or a dark depression for the first time in their life; they may find comfort in what I have to say. Someone may have just received a diagnosis of fibromyalgia and need to know that it can be very hard, but they can live life with it. There are people who know what it is like to live with fibromyalgia and chronic pain who help me by responding to my posts about living with this illness. There are people who stand up and say, we are not alone, all because I share. There are people who just feel comforted, as do I, to know that another person gets what it is like to face the challenges of anxiety, depression, PTSD, self-injury, etc. and for them I write. Even for those who have endured much worse, I write. I write to let them know that they have my support if they choose to speak out. I want them to know that I believe in them and that they can find healing.
Sometimes I ask myself… am I over-sharing? Did you really need to know that I was molested when I was 7 years old by an elderly man? Nope. You may not need to know that, but by putting that out here, maybe, just maybe, someone will say, “Me too, and it really changed me. It really had an effect on me that I can acknowledge now.” Who knows?
For all of these reasons and more I continue to spill it here for you… and for me. It is the best salve for my wounds. It helps me to know I am not alone, it helps me to know that if I can say it out loud then I can move through it and on to the good things in life. If I can share my struggles with you, then I can face them and I can choose to live free of them. Perhaps this is the greatest reason I write, after all, not that many people read this blog!
So it’s okay. It’s okay to over-share. Feel free to join me, there is no judgment here.