“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ~Maya Angelou

I have started and stopped writing this at least six times. This scares me; it scares the hell out of me to be vulnerable on any level.

But, I’m trying to find solace in three truths: (1) there is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of oneself, (2) the sharing of it can alleviate anguish, and (3) my story and your story can provide others with the strength they need to push forward.

In the words of Brene Brown, “Vulnerability is not winning or losing; it’s having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome. Vulnerability is not weakness; it’s our greatest measure of courage.” So, here’s to having no control over how others will react to me, to my story. Here’s to letting people see into the depths of who I am, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Here’s to me walking out what I preach.

My motto in life is to be who I needed. People most often use this phrase in reference to who they needed when they were younger. However, for me, it isn’t just about being who I need when I was five, it’s about being who I needed when I was five, five years ago, and five minutes ago. In part, I needed someone who would be vulnerable with me and share their story so I could find the courage to write my own, on my terms.

So here it is…

My story is less than glamorous. I grew up in an environment that felt inordinately unsafe and unstable. While I always had the practical things (e.g., food, clothing, shelter), I never had the intangible elements one needs to grow up truly healthy (e.g., psychological, emotional, and spiritual guidance/support). Sadly, even as I write this, I’m petrified of what will happen when it is public. I’m anticipating polar opposite reactions. Group One will dismiss and invalidate everything in this post. They will all but blatantly call me a liar and will have no regard or reflection on what I share. Group Two will show the exact opposite. They will pour out love and support while, most likely, texting me to tell me how proud they are of me.

And yet, the pain I will experience at the hands of Group One will pale in comparison to the agony of continuing the secrecy of my story.

Looking back at most of my life, I can only equate it to being a passive-aggressive warzone. It was passive enough to not raise major red-flags to those around me, but aggressive enough that I suffered, and still suffer, with those experiences.

Don’t get me wrong, I put myself in a lot of situations where trauma exposure is likely. Working with some of the populations I do (e.g., sexual assault survivors), it has always been part of the territory and I wouldn’t change anything about it. That said, there have been a lot of situations that were not of my own choosing. And those, those are the ones that still haunt me most.

From every type of abuse to having no safe adult I felt I could turn to without breech of confidentiality to deep feelings of loneliness and worthlessness, I have more bad memories than good ones of my childhood. Because of this, I often suffered in silence. I was raised to believe the only acceptable emotions were happiness and anger (a secondary emotion). Often, I was told I was being overly emotional or that things were my fault. I had no confidence, no self-love, and often felt I had no reason to live.

When I moved away for college, I finally felt I could be myself and grow into someone of whom I’d be proud. I went through periods of severe depression and anxiety of which my recovery can only be attributed to my loving roommates and a patient counselor. I’ve struggled with horrible nightmares and the constant feeling of being on-guard (in the mental health field we call it hypervigilance). I was always in fight mode. I grew up constantly trying to be the peace-keeper and the “good one”. I was taught self-care is selfish. So, in my 20s, I had to unlearn 18 years of negative thought processes. I had to learn how to love myself, how my worth is not tied to my accomplishments, and how to take time to fight and care for myself.

Unfortunately, as I’ve grown into this person, I’ve been met with pushback. I’ve heard several around me speak of how they don’t like how I create and hold boundaries. They’ve told me what they don’t like about me and of all the things with which they disagree. My new-found confidence and security scares them. Through this, they passively communicate to me that the broken, hurt, and lost child I once was is who they prefer.

Today, I am a mental health professional. Everything I do in life is to be who I needed, whether my needs are met or not, whether I have who I need or not. I will continue to fight for and with others, using my pain and experiences to fuel my empathy and passion for others. This blog is about just that. It’s a place for each person to share their mental health journey in an attempt to shine a light into someone else’s darkness. It gives the writer a chance to be vulnerable while allowing the reader to feel validated and as though they aren’t alone.

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you.

So, tell it.