I was talking to someone a while back about how hard it is for me to talk or write about my depression, and how much I admire bloggers who are able to discuss it intelligently in their space (read this post by Alice of Finslippy to see what I mean). And they asked what I was afraid of. It's a lot of things--people thinking less of me for being someone who depends on psychotropic drugs, seeming weak, etc. But I've never been able to put a really good finger on the other thing, the big fear, until I saw The Willard Suitcase Exhibit. People's entire lives stolen, to be recovered only in fragments from their suitcases decades later. That's what I'm afraid of.
Thanks to Blue Lily for once again turning me on to something I needed to see but likely would have missed otherwise.