The thing that I hate about working in an office is how close to… and how ridiculously far from.. you are to your co-workers. I have always had a hard time being real around anyone. Multiply that by a million when I’m in an office full of women who play the ‘office politic’ game. I feel like anything that I could possibly say to anyone can, at any given moment, be twisted into something that is entirely different than what I intended.

I’ve been a little touch-and-go with letting people know that I’m seeing a therapist. I believe out of the 15 people in my office, 2 I have told, but they all know that I’ve been having regular ‘doctors’ appointments every other week. I’m sure some of them have figured it out.

What they don’t know is why. It’s difficult for me to explain when I’m still trying to figure it all out. I am slightly closer to some co-workers than others. And I’m thinking about the idea of slowly dipping my toe into the waters of owning my problems. I almost feel like if I were to be transparent with one or two of them… it may help to know that I’m not trying to keep this completely in the dark – that being open with a select few might actually help me in my getting better.

I feel like I’m constantly hiding. I try to hide my body. I try to mask my eating habits. I try to hide how I feel. I try to hide…everything. And maybe, part of getting better is taking that mask away. Coming out into the light and saying, I have a problem. I mean… in real life. With people. That sounds so hard, but so is everything else I’m doing in order to … not fix… overcome my illness.

It’s also really been nagging in the back of my brain… maybe you should just tell someone. Maybe, you can find someone who would understand and not think they need to fix you, or worry that you’re skipping lunch again, or look at you in a different way. Okay. THAT is what terrifies me. All. Of. The. Above. But maybe it wouldn’t be nearly as bad as how I imagine it in my head. It almost never is. Until it is.