It is a secret that I have all sorts of psychiatric diagnosis. I had a therapist who believed I should tell no one except for very close family. The stigma was too much, he said, I would lose all credibility. When I was first diagnosed I told everyone I knew with an email address in a mass email. Well, everyone except for a certain youth pastor. I would grow to hate him, but that had nothing to do with my bipolar/add/ocd diagnosis and everything to do with him being an asshole.
Now, I strike some what of a balance. There are very few people at our new church that "know". I'm not ashamed of being ill, anymore than I am ashamed I have acne scars. I can't really see them and if if I really cared I'd put makeup on over them. I need to correct that, I am not completely ashamed of being ill, but I am ashamed of some of the things that go along with it. I am ashamed I drive forty five minutes to see a psychiatrist. I am ashamed I have strong ties to a therapist. I am getting over the shame associated with drugs. People ask me if I take meds and I never lie. I'm not a big liar.
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