Some would say the topics I write about are at times too personal, that I shouldn’t expose so much. All is interconnected— it’s time to heal the world’s relationship with talking about trauma and mental illness. My part in this is tiny and insignificant, but it’s mine. Being proactive in advocacy of destigmatization as a writer is the most productive action I can take. The sentiments that call these topics inappropriate are ones that perpetuate the vulnerability and isolation of victims, they’re sentiments that kill.
The choice to read what I write is made of one’s own volition. If these topics are too uncomfortable to absorb, this is a journey of self control. My choice is to let it all hang out. There’s nothing undignified or embarrassing about my choice. It’s an exercise of control over my trauma and a gift to my inner child who could never say a word.
Perhaps it’s easier as I have a very small audience, but a portion of my readers are locals and family. I believe I wouldn’t change a thing if I had the attention of every single person in the world. If what I write is worth being seen by eyes I may look into, this choice is immutable.
Many times I’ve put my name to my history and divulged details to strangers: police, psychiatrists and psychologists, ER staff, in a myriad of scenarios. Since I was a child others have also exposed intimate details of my trauma in social settings, often against my will.
At this point everyone in my life knows about the majority of my trauma and suspects the rest.
While I may face potential career-related repercussions for how outspoken I’ve been, I accept this slim chance of negative consequence. The perceptions which would rather I avoid these topics are the ones I wish to actively work against as a writer and advocate. My ability to weather possible repercussions is a testament to privilege— and I’ll sacrifice what I need to do what I can.