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  • Writer's picturedivawdep


I had hit rockbottom. I had three breakdowns. One of which was at work. I couldn’t care for my house. All of the friends I thought I had were gone. I had no family around. I wanted to shrivel up and fade away.

You see, no one tells you that the shame from having this illness can be worse than actually having it. You can practically, if not actually, hear the whispers.

“Ooh, she’s crazy.” “How could she let herself get like that.” “What does she have to be depressed about?”

I had friends who were at my house for parties, dinners, bookclub. When I got sick, crickets. One person was with me EVERYDAY at work. I have yet to hear from her.

Family, HMPH! Their whispers were the loudest. And most painful. The lack of phone calls, texts, hell, I would have taken a card, was hurtful.

I often wonder if I had announced that I had a physical disease, would the reactions have been different.

I don’t know. I just know that this is one of the loneliest places to be. The stares. The careless comments. And my favorite, the silence.

I carry the pain, the horror, the guilt, the losses. The load is back breaking. Adding shame to the pile can bring you to your knees.

It’s difficult to explain to someone who doesn’t have this illness. Some will try to understand. Some will support you. Then there are those who just don’t care.

I hope you learn the difference.

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