Thanksgiving is in five days at the time I’m writing this, and while I am excited, I am also anxious. If I could postpone it, I would. I am anxious about Thanksgiving because it is a time to connect with people in your life, which can be a good thing and a bad thing. I enjoy seeing family and friends, hearing about people’s lives and catching up with each other. In past years, I have looked forward to gushing about school and my amazing, stimulating classes and my wonderful friends. I have been proud of where I am and what I’m doing, and ready to talk about it. Things are different this year.

In the last year, I have told the story of how I got where I am today countless times, but mostly to strangers and doctors, not to people in my life. I have had practice but am still uncomfortable saying what I do during the day or what prompted me to take a gap semester. At job interviews I am asked why I’m away from school and what I do during the day, and I don’t know how to answer.

The truth is: I left school because I had a mental breakdown. I spend six hours a day, five days a week, at an eating disorder clinic. I haven’t been in a classroom or held down a job in eight months. How do I say that when asked about my life at Thanksgiving? Do I lay this heavy burden on people in my life?

Let me start by saying this- I strongly believe in the importance of sharing stories around mental health. If we share our stories, we can remind each other that we are not alone in this. We can break the stigma around mental health and legitimize it in the eyes of society. As my favorite poet Andrea Gibson writes in her poem “The Nutritionist”, “I have been told, sometimes, the most healing thing we can do is remind ourselves over and over and over, other people feel this too”. I want to put my voice out there as a reminder and if I can reach even one person, that is enough.

But still, I am scared of Thanksgiving. I have told myself a million times not to be ashamed of my mental illness, but I still hesitate when I tell people for the first time. I am still scared of the reaction, of the change in the way people will view me. If I tell them I have an eating disorder, will they watch every bite that goes into my mouth? If I tell them I have depression, will they watch like a hawk on the day I don’t feel like showering? Can I wear short sleeves without them staring at my wrists?

I may be able to accept myself, but I am afraid of Thanksgiving because society isn’t ready to accept me. Our ingrained ableism blinds us to the realities of mental illness and keeps us stuck in our stigmas so that I am afraid when I tell someone about my reality, and I am tired of it. If I can find the words to speak, you can find it in you to listen. Put aside your preconceived notions for a moment, and just listen to me. Just give me a chance. I don’t want to be scared of Thanksgiving anymore.