Horses and Hope
Today was the first day of the rest of my life and I was spending it crying on a therapy horse named Ty, my tears mixing with the dirt that clung to him. I was beyond rock bottom.
Today was the first day of the rest of my life and I was spending it crying on a therapy horse named Ty, my tears mixing with the dirt that clung to him. I was beyond rock bottom.
What would happen if instead of telling “negative” or “difficult” kids that their outcries were disruptive and made people feel uncomfortable, we told them they have a right to feel all the complicated emotions and not just the pretty ones?
My shame will not survive.
There is magic in life again, and my healing is a testament to it.
I think that having bipolar disorder has helped me be a better parent.
May is Mental Health Month. These statements are true, they are non-negotiable, they are Black and White.
I can’t “choose happiness,” but I can invite it.
To keep letting each new day greet you even when you feel like you have nothing to offer it is not insignificant.
The truth rings clear: my body needs rest.
Seeing a rainbow flag on the front desk of my therapy practice felt like a weight had been lifted.
I turned my pain into a quirky trait and a joke.
I thought I was broken somehow and there was no fixing it.
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