I’ll be the first to admit it. My Instagram persona is not me. This persona is a bad ass chick who is always looking tough, dressed awesome, and at fabulous places. You’ll never catch her in a vulnerable state of crippling anxiety or depression. She is me, minus all the parts of me that I don’t like.
I use Instagram to create my “brand,” and that is a brand/image that hides a part that I loathe, and have been hiding for the longest time. All to maintain an image for the public. Yes, I’m completely guilty. I’m sure many of you are, too. I’m coming clean in hopes that I will inspire others to do the same. Maybe if we open up ourselves more, more people will realize that they are NOT alone.
Though an outsider would probably never suspect it just by looking at my pictures, I suffer from what they call “mental illness.” I’ve had Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) since the age of 12, and then later on in college I developed Major Depressive Disorder (MDD). Technically, MDD is a fatal illness. The death rate (as a result of suicide) is actually higher than many strictly physical chronic illnesses. I’ve tried just about every psychiatric medication under the sun and gone through countless hours of therapy over the past 10 years. I’m still fighting, and it sucks. But I’m still here, and I’m still this extra badass caricature of myself on Instagram.
These “issues” that have ruled a DECADE of my life have been completely masked and gone unmentioned on my social media channels. Because that persona that I’ve been talking about shouldn’t have to deal with that stuff, right? Well, nobody’s perfect. People suffer from illnesses of all sorts. Mine happens to be mental. I wish that when I was younger, I had a community of people on the Internet to speak to and read about so that I didn’t feel completely not alone in this battle.
It’s a shame that I (and many, many others) feel like they need to hide these dark sides of themselves for fear of what might happen. People on Instagram tell me that they wish they lived my life. They tell me that they legitimately wish they were me. They ask, “How can I be as cool as you?” I feel like I’m living a lie. I can’t give them an answer, because I don’t feel cool at all, and I’m definitely not happy. Nothing is as it seems.
I’ve been hiding this part of me, because frankly, I’ve been embarrassed to admit it. I don’t want to seem weak. I’ve been hiding it because I don’t want people to look at me differently. In “real life” people know about my issues. A lot of them don’t know how to handle it. They’re in denial. They tell me that they’re here for me, and when I need them most, there’s either no answer or a response of “I’m not your therapist.” So why would I want to project that to the Internet? What a horrible idea! Well, here I am, sharing my story.
Here’s a revolutionary idea. Maybe we can still be badass, maybe even MORE badass, by refusing to hide who we really are. We can show the world who we really are, flaws and all. Maybe being vulnerable is actually being strong – strong enough to share your story and help others. Having a mental illness (or a few) is not a choice, contrary to the beliefs of many people. However, whether or not we choose to disclose our diagnoses IS a choice. Open up, and you might inspire someone to do the same. We aren’t alone.
By: Ashley Kelly
The post Social Media, Others’ Perceptions of Mental Illness, and Coming Clean appeared first on Anxiety in Teens.
