Unashamed
I’m afraid of being seen, of being heard.
I’m afraid of being seen, of being heard.
Try as I might, I’ve found myself utterly unable to push the world back into a proper tilt, or pull it more quickly through these darker, colder months.
What does life look like long-term living with bipolar disorder? How treatable are the symptoms and will life ever get easier?
It’s discouraging, being almost better but not quite there.
How you feel right now is not your forever.
It’s time to start reminding ourselves why we’re alive in the first place, and what good can still come even in the midst of our darkest moments.
Being alive is not something to feel ashamed of.
We are literally seeing people connect to the help that exists.
I have started to feel less inclined to expect a linear recovery with rainbows and parties and ice cream at every bend.
In the wake of his suicide, I became suicidal, a common side-effect of surviving a suicide.
We are going to keep living, whatever it takes.
I’m afraid that this pain won’t ever go away.
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