12/14/2025
Iām Mentally Ill ā and People Never Expect Me to Say That
People are always a little caught off guard when I say Iām mentally ill. Especially when I say it calmly. Casually. Without shame. Thereās usually a pause. A look. Sometimes a comment about how I seem āfineā or āput together.ā What they really mean is that I donāt look like the version of mental illness theyāre comfortable with.
For some reason, people expect mental illness to be loud and obvious. They expect it to look like complete dysfunction. Not someone who shows up. Not someone who works, leads, builds things, parents, creates, or carries responsibility. Saying it out loud forces people to confront something uncomfortable: mental illness doesnāt cancel competence, and being high-functioning doesnāt mean you arenāt struggling.
I live with mental illness and I live a full life - to the best of my ability. Those things exist at the same time. For a long time, I believed admitting that would be used against meāand sometimes it was. It got labeled as instability. As weakness. As something that needed to be controlled for other peopleās comfort. Hiding it meant constantly monitoring myself, swallowing emotions, and shrinking parts of who I am. That kind of silence takes a toll.
I threw the towel of shame away in 2014.
Mental health is only supported when itās quiet and convenient. The moment it affects energy, mood, boundaries, or capacity, the grace tends to disappear. A lot of people say they support mental health, but far fewer are willing to sit with what it actually looks like in real life.
I talk about it because silence keeps stigma alive. I know how many people are functioning while barely holding it together, convinced theyāre the only ones because everyone else looks āfine.ā I also know how damaging it is to believe that needing helpāor naming whatās happeningāmeans youāre failing.
Being mentally ill doesnāt mean I lack discipline or resilience. It doesnāt mean Iām ungrateful for my life. It doesnāt mean I havenāt worked hard or built meaningful things. It means my brain, like any other part of my body, has limits and vulnerabilities that need care.
Iām not sharing this to be brave or inspirational. Iām sharing it because honesty mattersāand shame has never healed anyone. If my openness makes people uncomfortable, that says more about how we talk about mental illness than it does about me.
No one should feel embarrassed for naming their reality. No one should have to hide to be respected. Mental illness is common, complicated, and real. Pretending otherwise only makes it harder for people to survive.
