I have something to confess: I am profoundly ashamed of myself. Every time I think I have depression, I cringe. And I have no idea why.
No one made me like this. Sure, there’s the stigma attached to mental illness. And maybe that’s part of it. But no one ever explicitly told me there was something wrong with me—except for me.
It wasn’t always this way. I used to parade my depression around boldly. I had a pen pal support group for people with depression. I blogged about it without even blinking. Now, just the thought of publishing this post terrifies me.
But I’m going to do it anyway, because someone out there feels like this too. And I want you to know that it’s okay.
It’s okay to feel ashamed, because we are a work in progress. And someday, you and I are both going to feel proud of who we are—because we should be. Anyone living with depression has serious guts.
Take it a little at a time. Someday soon, you will feel just as strong as you truly are.