So this was shared by The LAD Bible
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!
You have no idea what an individual might be struggling with. Just because someone is "famous" doesn't make them fair game. So Wentworth Millergained a few pounds. Why did no one stop and say "hang on, that's not Wentworth's usual look, something might be wrong".
If you have ever been to the very edge you know what it's like. The world can be a cruel and ugly place. Especially if you're "too fat" your skin isn't a "desirable colour" you're not "tall enough" and so on. If eating gave Wentworth the power to survive then where is the problem huh?
Someone I knew growing up very recently lost her battle with depression and a few people I spoke to about it said she "seemed fine yesterday". I seem fine most days yet I am constantly fighting a battle with things worse than demons. I have used drugs, food, self harm, sex and most recently copious amounts of alcohol to try and silence the voices in my head to absolutely no avail. I am currently seeking another outlet in order to not only survive but to LIVE!
On Sunday I had a body cast done by a very good friend. I had a lot of fun and really enjoyed seeing the results. However, when I posted the pictures here on Facebook, it started. First there was speculation - what is OddSocks up to now? Maybe this, maybe that? Those comments didn't hurt as such. I simply found myself wondering why it was anyone's business. Then things took a disturbing turn via my inbox. I was called "disgusting". I was told I should "be ashamed" of myself. I was called "selfish for forcing my Facebook friends to see my fat, ugly body" and more...
My body belongs to me. No one else. It's mine. I own it. I will do with it as I please! Sometimes I look in the mirror and feel a part of me die inside. Most of the time I hate my body. Not least because - to me - it is fat. My body doesn't work properly. Hyper Mobility Syndrome means things bend the wrong way. Fibromyalgia means that EVERYTHING hurts - all the damn time. My self harm scars elicit snide remarks. Even my tattoos attract negetive comments - typically, I'm falsely accused of being a "benefits scrounging single mum who pays for her tattoos with "our taxes". It would have laughable were it not for those already open wounds inside me.
I've just realsed that I've totally taken someone's issue and made it about me which wasn't my intention. All I really wanted to say is;
BACK THE FUCK OFF! YOU DON'T KNOW MY STORY. YOU DON'T KNOW WENTWORTH'S STORY. YOU DON'T KNOW ANYONE'S STORY AND YOU HAVE NO FUCKING RIGHT TO MAKE ANYONE FEEL SHAME FOR ANYTHING THEY DO. EVER!
What Wentworth Miller had to say about this post:
Today I found myself the subject of an Internet meme. Not for the first time.
This one, however, stands out from the rest.
In 2010, semi-retired from acting, I was keeping a low-profile for a number of reasons.
First and foremost, I was suicidal.
This is a subject I've since written about, spoken about, shared about.
But at the time I suffered in silence. As so many do. The extent of my struggle known to very, very few.
Ashamed and in pain, I considered myself damaged goods. And the voices in my head urged me down the path to self-destruction. Not for the first time.
I've struggled with depression since childhood. It's a battle that's cost me time, opportunities, relationships, and a thousand sleepless nights.
In 2010, at the lowest point in my adult life, I was looking everywhere for relief/comfort/
And I put on weight. Big f--king deal.
One day, out for a hike in Los Angeles with a friend, we crossed paths with a film crew shooting a reality show. Unbeknownst to me, paparazzi were circling. They took my picture, and the photos were published alongside images of me from another time in my career. "Hunk To Chunk." "Fit To Flab." Etc.
My mother has one of those "friends" who's always the first to bring you bad news. They clipped one of these articles from a popular national magazine and mailed it to her. She called me, concerned.
In 2010, fighting for my mental health, it was the last thing I needed.
Long story short, I survived.
So do those pictures.
Now, when I see that image of me in my red t-shirt, a rare smile on my face, I am reminded of my struggle. My endurance and my perseverance in the face of all kinds of demons. Some within. Some without.
Like a dandelion up through the pavement, I persist.
Anyway. Still. Despite.
The first time I saw this meme pop up in my social media feed, I have to admit, it hurt to breathe. But as with everything in life, I get to assign meaning. And the meaning I assign to this/my image is Strength. Healing. Forgiveness.
Of myself and others.
If you or someone you know is struggling, help is available. Reach out. Text. Send an email. Pick up the phone. Someone cares. They're waiting to hear from you. Much love. - W.M.