Erin McKelle

I’ve said I was “good,” “fine,” or “doing well” after crying for hours, lying in bed all day with no motivation, and even experiencing suicidal ideation. My worst days are when the temptation to mask my pain with a smile is the strongest.

I’ve been writing about body positivity on the Internet for a couple of years now, but I have to admit that if anything, loving my body has become harder than when I started. Since then, I came to understand that I had an unresolved eating disorder that I battled for six years, I’ve started working out and I’ve discovered a passion for cooking.

This year I’m going into the holiday season with a self-care game plan, so that I’ll be ready when the holiday blues come around. I think that probably more people get the holiday blues than you would think, since this isn’t an issue that’s often talked about openly.

I’ve decided to give up any sort of permanent living space in favor of using my money to travel and see the world. The only things I have with me are the things I can literally carry on my back, which includes my purse, a carry-on bag, and two suitcases.

I began to see my mental health go completely downhill. This led me to seek out a psychiatrist, who raised an interesting concern: she thought my birth control was messing with my depression. It’s not like I hadn’t been aware of the link between hormonal contraception and depression before, but it never occurred to me that these two personal realities could be connected.

[CN: sexual assault] No more sex — no touching, fondling… Nada. I was done. I had a new mission: to heal.

Even though I've suffered from clinical depression ever since I was 15 years old, my depressive episodes have a lot more at stake as I’ve gotten older, especially since I’m dependent on my own productivity in order to survive.

I propose going back to basics, back to what self-care is supposed to be about. Instead of this new flashy and expensive self-care movement.

I feel like indirect communication is a common thread amongst women. Since women are socially conditioned to not make a fuss, ruffle any feathers or have permission to speak our minds, indirect communication becomes inevitable. Or conversely, if we communicate directly, we’re often labeled in a negative manner, like bitch.

I’m ready to demystify the stereotypes and break down the stigma of bipolar disorder.