I know who I am...

....but not many people do.  In fact, only 2-3 people do know me.

Over the past several months, that has become painfully clear to me. 

While there are several reasons why I have chosen to isolate myself, one of the most prevalent is that I am in hiding.

As a general rule, the general population doesn't really know me or what my life is like.  Even those who know me better than most, really don't know what my life is like.  I am not overlooking the fact that everyone has struggles.  Struggling is not unique to just me.  However, I do have a fairly uncommon diagnosis which makes my like very different from everyone around me. 

My particular illness (not how I like to think of it, but medically speaking is an illness) is suspected to be found in less than 1% of the world's entire population.  Statistics vary from .0001% to .999999%, with a majority of those going completely undiagnosed.  It is safe to say that not very many people would have any clue what it is like to have or live with someone with my illness.

In fact, it is so uncommon that even those who know find it difficult to understand.   Honestly, my husband struggles to understand and adapt.  So of course there is fear that openly sharing with the general population could create some backlash of misunderstanding and ignorance. 

But how much pain is it creating in me to keep who I am so hidden?

To know me, understand me and even walk through any of life with me, you really need to have some knowledge of my diagnosis and life.  I have tried to have deeper relationships with people without them knowing, but it never works.

As cliche as it may sound, my diagnosis does not define me.  However, it must be respected and accepted just as any other characteristic which makes me who I am.  To purposely overlook this particular area of my life is to minimize my strength, intelligence and perseverance.  These are things I have had to learn over the past three years to do within myself. 

I know those close to me are fearful of me being hurt by the misunderstanding and ignorance.  Yes, I know that can and will happen.  But will it hurt more than the isolation?

It took me over 32 years to finally admit that I had been abused.  It has taken even longer and very small, baby steps for me to share with anyone that I was not just abused as a child but the abuse lasted well into my 30's.  I still cannot be positive that it has completely stopped.

The golden rule of abuse is to keep it hidden, locked away from the world.  It is a rule instilled so deeply in you and enforced by even more abuse.  A rule so steadfast within you that to finally break it even in the safest place possible feels like a shameful violation of everything you believe. 

Right now, I am living by that same rule only in a very different way.  I have no choice but to keep hidden who I am and what my life is like because of fear.  There is a different reason for the fear, but it is fear just the same. 

It is so frustrating to have to hide something so big in my life and often reduces me to abuse flashbacks. 

This is one of my stumbling blocks for church too.  My condition/illness/diagnosis (whatever you want to call it) causes me to act in somewhat obscure ways in large groups of people and especially in church. 

For instance, I cannot go to an evening bible study or choir practice or most events where I would sit for extended periods of time.  Why?  Because the later the day gets, the harder it is for me to suppress the symptoms.  Why is that a problem?  Because the people sitting around me do not know what is happening and do not understand why I do not know who they are or why I disappear half way through. 

That is just one example of many.  All in a place where everyone should be able to come just as they are.  Broken.  Sick.  A church should be a safe place to be who you are.  I am sure that is true....for everybody but me.  That is a painful reality that I live.  I have to stay home when there might be a chance that others could see the real me. 

This is just simply unfair to me! 

Each time someone says to me they are praying for me because of my depression, I graciously thank them.  Inside, I'm crying..."It's not just everyday depression!"  It's not.  It isn't JUST depression.  It isn't JUST anxiety.  It isn't JUST PTSD.  It's not bipolar.  I just want to say what IT is.  I just want people to understand and accept me regardless of IT. 

I want to be able to not live such an isolated life when IT is the driving force in all facets of my life. 

I don't want to live ashamed of who I am any more.  I want to be released from the golden rule.  I want be free from fear.  I need help.