"Why are you so open about your mental health?" It's a question I get fairly often from friends, and also from people I don't necessarily know that well. I've even gotten facebook messages from well-meaning people asking this question with a follow up: "Why are you so open about your mental health? You shouldn't be. Aren't you worried your job will find out, or that you'll never get another girlfriend or you'll lose friends?"
The truth is, I have not always been open at all with my mental health. In fact, I was more closeted with that than I ever was with my own sexuality, and anyone who knows me well can attest that I was pretty deep in that one too. For a number of years, no one knew about my Bipolar I and my ADHD diagnoses, including my own family. I held that secret like it was the most shameful thing, and kept it hidden. No one knew about my suicide attempts, or my doctor's visits, or my endless supply of ever-changing medication.
I used to hide my medication like it was some kind of illegal contraband. I remember going out with friends, my pills wrapped in a tiny piece of foil stuffed in my pocket. Surreptitiously, I'd peek at my phone, and then at the right time, I'd disappear into the bathroom and toss down my meds with tap water from a bathroom sink. I'd be sick almost immediately after because they were not taken correctly at all, but at least they were taken and I could fight through the sickness. Bipolar Disorder is frequently stigmatized in the media, and I did not want to lose friends because I was "crazy."
If you've ever been in a closet for any length of time, you know that there is nothing more exhausting than hiding who you really are. And I too felt that fatigue and broke down my lesbian closet door. The mental health one, though, was still firmly locked. More people knew than when I was first diagnosed, but it was still a shameful secret. Something to be feared instead of embraced, or at the very least understood. 
And to be fair, if shit didn't hit the fan this summer, I don't know if the psychiatric closet door would have ever been smashed down. But now that it has, I feel better about myself than I have in years. I can admit why I don't feel well, instead of having to create and then remember some insane lie. I can freely advocate for myself, I can explain to friends when I need to cancel a plan, instead of lying. And I can say "Tuesdays and Wednesdays generally are hard for me because I have a therapist appointment." The fact I no longer have to lie is a great weight lifted off my shoulders, and the fact that I finally accept what I have, has been more liberating than anything. I can finally admit when something is off, but I can finally celebrate the successes I have made. I graduated Gen Psych, and posted a blog and Facebook post about it. I never would have done that a year ago. I would have been too terrified. But even before I started seeing N. as an outpatient, she said something that stuck with me and prompted my coming out, so to speak. "Even flatworms have judgments. Everyone will have a judgment. The question is, do you let those judgments define you?"
And I did, for far too many years. But I am doing so no longer. So when you ask me am I afraid--the answer is no. Stigma will always be there, but that does not define me. I'm good at my job (at least I like to think so, and the kids more or less seem to be learning), and my diagnoses do not impact that. I push through bad days for my kids, same as every other teacher. Am I afraid to lose friends? No, not any more. I've got an amazing group, and if you want to leave because of my diagnosis, then I don't need you in my life. Am I afraid that I'll never have another girlfriend? No, I think somewhere out there, if it's meant to be, there's someone who will love and accept me for who I am, Bipolar and ADHD included.
It's not easy breaking out of a closet, especially in a world like ours, full of stigma and judgment. And I more than understand that. But breaking out has allowed me, for the first time in 33 years, to say and own my own name: Kelley Blessing. Because for the first time, I fully accept my medical condition, that it's part of but not all of who I am, and I know that Kelley Blessing is far more incredible than her diagnosis. If you are willing to look beyond it, no doubt you'll see that too.
I promised I wouldn't preach in this blog, and I'm not. But I will end this entry with a word of advice. If you ever find yourself trapped in a closet, think long and hard about why you are there. Know that you are an incredible person, and don't let any closet doors shut out your light. In time, when you are ready, break that door down, realize the amazing person that you are and proudly let others see that too. That is my wish for you. 