What Are We Hiding From?

As I start this entry today, I’m still at the point where I haven’t decided to share my blog as of yet. Actually I haven’t even told anyone I started a new blog yet. Just the ability to write something like I did yesterday in a “public” setting, whether shared or not, was a step I hadn’t taken in quite some time. Well, I wanna back space and correct, but I’m doing that as little as possible here. It’s a step I haven’t taken at all. Yes, I’ve posted on Facebook and Instagram in support of those fighting mental illness, and I’ve confided in new friends and old about the struggles I’ve conquered and faced alongside my diagnosis. I’ve read the books and offered my take and advice to those who may need it, but have I posted on social media all of me. God no. I know many people who have displayed the balls to admit each piece of them others may judge with what could be perceived as no fear, and I applaud them for it when I see it. I love the support I see people give. It’s a burden we all bare that there is definitely stigma and denial all over that we fight to conquer, and I know we always will.

It is an unfortunate truth I am still hiding these words right now. It’s been years since I’ve compelled myself in writing fiction. I remember a therapist recommending I stop because I was actually so good at it that I started to fool myself. In the end I turned to poetry and truth. Four years of college and decades of a passion in writing could not prepare me for the utter fear I had in writing reality. I started writing my truths in a notebook I was given when I was incarcerated years ago. I still have it, and I found myself sitting on the floor flipping through the pages recently. I was only in jail for 56 days, prior to that I was at the psychriatric hospital for 4 days receiving my official diagnosis of type 1 bipolar. Looking over the pages of notes and diary entries from my time in jail, I realized I was receiving no better method of treatment. It was literally noted on paper every day that I was taking my medication. I was enforced to wake up at the same time every day, and sent to bed at the same time every night. After my release, I went from two months in a homeless shelter to 2 years in a transitional house where I was living with a curfew. Dinner was at the same time every night and the kitchen could only be used in certain hours. When I started a sales job I was allowed to come in later, but had to enter through the back door and lock it upon arrival and go straight to my room. After 10pm, the living room was “closed”. I literally had no temptation to keep me up at night.

As new friends entered my life I hid my truths and kept very much to myself. Slowly I found myself telling a person at a time the story of my past and the how it is still effecting my present. As I uncovered the truths of myself I cringed and expected heartbreak and judgement. You know what happened? People stayed, and they reached their hand out to me and reminded me of the good, the progress, and who they’ve come to know. The internal battle to accept that I deserved good and noble people in in my life was brutal, but I was taught to pray again and trust in God. When I put my burdens on him and trusted His plan I felt relief.

So what are we hiding from? The answer is simple. We’re hiding from the bad and the stigma that inevitability crosses our paths on a daily basis. We’re hiding from hurt and disappointment. However, what I know we’ve all learned in how ever many years each of us as been alive is we cannot fix everything and every one, but we can create positivity in ourselves and share it to others. We can lend our hearts and empathy. We can listen without judgement and find those who do the same. For those who are currently unable provide the same love we want in the world, we can pray for them, and continue to reach our hands to each other.

My name is Kimberlee. I’m a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a friend and whatever else you may want to call me. I’ll never stop having faith that all people can be good and I am #notashamed.