How I finally accepted my mental illness and let go of shame and resentment.

Because I’ve done those things for more than a decade and it just got worse and worse… to the point of a panic attack. And you guys, that sh*t ain’t fun.

It’s not fun to not be able to breathe and to go to the doctor who has NO idea why you’re panicking, or no idea why you haven’t been able to sleep, or no idea why you’re so afraid to talk about it. If so many of us have mental illness, it should not be shameful to talk about it or ask for help.

I would argue that accepting help at that moment and opening up about my lifelong struggle saved my life. Who knows what could have happened if I left it unattended.

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