Naming It Aloud
In group, they were talking about identity.
One woman said, “I hate the word bipolar. It’s not who I am.”
Mara felt it rise in her chest—the urge to speak.
When it was her turn, she looked down at her hands and said, “It’s part of me. Not all of me. But… I think I’ve spent more energy hiding it than healing.”
No one gasped. No one pitied.
One man nodded. “That’s real.”
She walked out lighter.
Naming the thing didn’t give it power.
It gave her the power to keep going.
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