Why we stay in the dark

Identifying with our diagnoses, shame, and what it means to say "I have a mental illness."

"Accepting my mental illness didn't mean accepting being sick forever—it meant accepting that I was sick with something that needed treatment."

Welcome to week three, season two of The Messy Middle.

This season is all about accepting parts of self.

We started on April 3, so if you’re just joining us feel free to go back to week one and begin there! To access all the newsletters you’ll need to be a paid subscriber. You can do a 7-day Free Trial below XX.

Last week I wrote about accepting that I need to be in Eating Disorder treatment.

I'm in Eating Disorder treatment (again) and I need to be.

I’ve been in treatment for almost three months now, but I’ve heavily resisted acknowledging that it’s where I need to be (read more about that resistance here). So much is wrapped into that resistance: resisting admitting I need help, resisting admitting I’ve relapsed, resisting, above all, that I have an eating disorder.

I have an eating disorder.

I have an eating disorder.

I have an eating disorder.

They say the more you name it the less shame it holds. Fuck I hope that’s true.

What’s messin’ around in today’s newsletter:

1. Reducing shame around diagnoses: How can we expect to feel safe to seek help if we don’t even feel safe naming our illness? What does it even mean to be sick? And how do we make peace with being the person outside of the illness and still suffering from it?

2. Today’s Tip: I’ll offer a practical tool that you can start to apply this week.

3. Journaling Prompts: Some questions I’m pondering to reduce the shame and internalized stigma.

Eating Disorder is not a dirty word.

A few months ago I was invited to be attend Harvard’s Creator Summit on Mental Health. This is a huge honor (and my imposter syndrome is wailing). It’s a timely event considering I’m writing my final paper in grad school on the impact social media has on our sense of belonging.

In one of our sessions we were talking about what words we could use to make mental illness less daunting. Words and phrases like "mental condition" and "mental wellness" circulated the conversation, and I started to nod and smile in admiration of how often I've avoided saying "mental illness" in my writing.

Towards the end of the zoom call, a shaky voice piped up.

"I'm sorry, I'm shaking right now, I'm super nervous but also honored to be here," Kate Speer, author of

Probably Anxious

was sitting in front of a colorful bookshelf. Holding her hand to her chest, I could feel her heart beating through the screen.