283/365 | #thisisrecovery365
I try hard to break, or at the very, very least, challenge, the stereotypes of mental illness & eating disorders here. (Here being in my teensy tiny corner of the online world. Obviously.)
It’s why I post what I do, when I do.
It’s why I’ve uncovered so much of my Hollywood life, with still mountains to go.
It’s why on shit days, I turn the camera on myself.
It’s why I’ll publicly say I’m in eating disorder recovery when I’m not severely underweight, even with the backlash & asshat comments I deal with.
It’s why when I manage to put on makeup through my depression, it goes on my feed.
It’s all why.
And then today, I noticed something strange. Today I noticed I was the stereotypical epitome of depression.
Today I was in the black.
Today my head was covered.
My face was shaded.
My body was unwashed.
My teeth unbrushed.
My eyes were swollen, my clothes were eh, not dirty but not like CLEAN clean.
I noticed all this when I got home from class this morning. And I got angry. At my disease. And on World Mental Health Day, of all the days.
I got angry at the parts of my life that haven’t developed the way I wanted & the fact that in looking back, there’s explanations connected with my bipolar & MDD & anxiety & eating disorders.
And because I got angry, today I also got my ass to the gym- because these days the anger scares me.
And today my stereotypical, depressed self put up 8 plates (360lbs) on the leg press. Because anger.
So here’s the thing: I’m not only allowed to be depressed, I’m allowed to be depressed any way I need to- whether that’s stereotypically or not. This is what I learned today.
So if you were stereotypical today, you weren’t stereotypical alone. And you’re still deserving of help and support and love and, most of all, healing. But also, so am I. And that’s the part I keep forgetting.
Tonight I cut my stereotypical self a break.
Love and much-needed-showers. Xx