To let you in and allow you to experience this moment with me, or to shut the door and swallow the key?
I was launched into a world of obsession with a maladaptive coping mechanism, that for a great period of my life, was the only way I could ease the pain of this vicious illness.
So today I tell my story, well stories, about every time I didn’t want what was happening, but nobody bothered to ask.
As individual words form sentences, form paragraphs, form pages, the connection between language and experience solidifies.
Depression is a black hole, but one your eyes have adjusted to. When light shines down into the hole it's disorienting.
Here are some of the things I wish someone had told me when I was diagnosed with a mental illness.
I cannot recall the last time I felt comfortable in my skin. I don’t think I can imagine my life without a crippling fear of appearing fat.
You didn’t and still don’t always understand everything that goes on in my head, but you work with rigor and enthusiasm to learn about this illness.
There’s something I’ve always loved about having two older brothers. I don’t know if it was because I felt like I was cooler because of that fact, or that it was nice to feel as though I was being initiated into a fraternity throughout my entire childhood.
I want it to be clear that nothing that has happened in my life, that led to, or perpetuated my depression, was your fault. I am sick.
Washing your hands is supposed to signify a cleansing, but I think I’m overdoing the cleanse
Recently I wrote about body image and felt empowered to change the way I viewed my body. I felt motivated to work on changing my self-talk. I was finally ready to take charge.