Next Steps
The process of becoming a more vocal mental health advocate has led to quite a few surprising things - many of which have come about thanks to being open with family, friends, and colleagues about the challenges I live with.
When I first started blogging for No Shame On U nearly four years ago, I imagined my advocacy as a solely online endeavor where I’d be able to hide my identity and keep myself safe. After being bullied throughout my childhood, and seeing how vicious people can be on the Internet and beyond, I was wary of sharing anything that could be traced back to me.
And so, I inverted what I usually meant by “personal” and shared the exact opposite of what I share with people in real life. Blog readers knew my medical history, but not my name. It was a strange way to interact with the world, but things got even stranger when - as I solicited more advice about publishing a book about my experience with OCD - I was told that I’d have to put a face to the fake name.
This week, I took another step in this process as I made a Facebook page to share memes, photographic examples of life with OCD, and old and new blog posts to people I have known for years. With some of these people, I prided myself on being such a good actress that they either didn’t know I had anything “wrong” with me or that I simply seemed to be a more anxious person than most.
When I sent invitations to like the page, I felt a pang of nervousness. It was like I was removing years’ worth of shields that I had erected to protect myself, in the hopes that the world had evolved in the time since then to the point that I would not become a target for no reason other than being myself.
The moment after I pressed the “send” button, I worried about what people might say. But unlike when I was a child, I have good friends now, people who care about me for who I am, not despite. I’m not in a position where I have to hold onto “friendships” with no reciprocity out of desperation for social contact. Which means that if anyone has negative comments to offer on my page, I can cut them out of my life and not have to worry about what they’ll do to me next.
In addition to inviting people to like the page, I also posted about the page to my personal Facebook profile. The post is visible by people who bullied me in middle and high school, some of whom have since called me “brave” for the same characteristics they used to pick apart.
I don’t know what to make of that, just as I have a hard time answering any compliments given to me about the work I’m doing. It feels so strange to talk about mental health in the open that I sometimes catch myself standing there slack-jawed like a dead fish before remembering to say “thank you.”
As I share who I really am with more people, I’ve noticed even more changes:
I’m beginning to lose the reputation of someone who is more mousy and submissive, and gaining one as someone who will speak up for what’s right.
People around me are more willing to take “no” for an answer without an explanation, which makes things easier in situations I tend to find hard - like eating out.
And so far, the comments on my Facebook page have made me cry - but not in the way I feared. People are offering respect and kindness instead of cruelty, something I never could have anticipated when I used to dread going to school out of fear of a new day’s bullying.
Things like this show me that we are living in a more tolerant world than when I was a child - and I hope that we continue in this direction.
Michelle Cohen, a writer in the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.