I don't know what possessed me.
Maybe I was just tired of lying to people.
Anyways I went to my knit group last week. I hadn't been for a few weeks.
Where have you been? inquired a knitterly friend, discreetly.
I haven't been feeling well, I said.
What was wrong?
Now normally this is where I make up some vague statement about stomach problems.
But not this time.
This time I said:
I have been having anxiety attacks.
I haven't been able to eat.
She was kind, and empathetic and understanding.
She expressed surprise because she has always seen me as someone who is out-going, interested in many things, doing many things.
I have hidden it well.
But I am taking crazy back.
I am not hiding in the closet of mental illness anymore.
Because as Ash Beckham says - a closet is no place for a person to truly live.