People want to share.

People want to share.

The most amazing thing happens when I tell people about my book--they tell me their problems, their mother's problems, their cousin's problems, their roommate's problems.
People I've never met before, and who I'd imagine would never tell a stranger about their mental health problems, can't wait to dish. I don't think that these people were walking the streets, bursting at the seams to talk about anxiety disorder, and happened on me. Instead, I think that hearing about my openness and and willingness to be honest triggers something in them. I think people want to be open. I think people want to share--only they don't want to be the one that cracks first. They don't want to be the one caught "with their insides hanging on their outside" (a quote from my mom) if the other person isn't going to do the same.

I always crack first. That's just how I'm built. Of course, I want to be open because that's what feels right to me--but there's something else. I want to be open because I want people to know me. But maybe that's just a crafty way of trying to get to know other people, too.