Coming Out

All week, I've kept a list of potential blog posts on my cell phone. I've gotten really excited thinking about my new project, and I have scribbled notes about the man I saw at San Francisco General today, the article about a "trend" of bipolar celebrities these days, the difficulty I have making decisions. There is so much to say about this illness, about the humor, the sadness, the small moments of triumph and despair that this albatross brings as it swings inexorably around your neck.

Then I read this blog post. The post explains how important anonymity is for someone blogging about his or her mental illness, and how a failure to protect your identity can adversely affect your work life and your personal relationships. Just like bipolar disorder. She compares mental illness to minority sexual orientation, but says the stigma is currently worse for the mentally ill in most situations.

This is something I've thought a lot about. There is heavy stuff to write about here: heavy feelings, heavy experiences, heavy stories. But sharing it lightens the load, because I know that if I had found a resource like this when I was first learning about living with this disease, it would have made my life very different. I remember the few times I've met someone with this diagnosis and how relieved I felt: not happy, not joyful, just relieved. Relief is such a sweet thing sometimes. My memory fhat feeling makes me want to share this blog with everyone I know, in case they know someone who might feel that way when they read it. Or maybe that's not why - maybe it's because I want to break the silence and because I need to share, because writing is what I do when I feel scared and alone and because writing is the only thing I can do that makes me feel like I can leave something in this world, something real and maybe even beautiful.

On the other hand, it's scary. Coming out is scary. People are ignorant, and these things are personal and hard. Do I want my coworkers to see this? My boss? A guy who might be thinking about asking me out? Why is it that it is less scary, and more liberating, to share this blog with strangers than with those closest to me?

These questions scare me. They make my tummy hurt and they leave me with a sense of loss, as though if I shut this down, if I don't share this blog, I'm losing something. Because I'm passionate about this blog, and this topic, and anyone and anything out there help me this illness. But that doesn't mean sharing is the right thing to do. Or does it?