In This Together
It was how I survived. It’s what guided me out of that once endless maze; it’s the reason I’m still alive today.
It was how I survived. It’s what guided me out of that once endless maze; it’s the reason I’m still alive today.
Even when we don’t want to take another step. Even when our hearts hurt. Even when it feels like the phone never rings and no one cares, we are enough.
All signs point to joy. All calculations add up to delight. So why the hell do I feel so afraid and sad?
There are books to read, trips to travel, footprints to imprint in the ground. Your footprints.
Years after that first day when I was eight—on a day just as bright and clear—the world once again plunged into a meaningless gray. Only this time, it didn’t lift.
Anxiety has this really funny way of distorting not only what you see, but how you see, and I was seeing myself only as an extra in everyone else’s lives...
I would love to believe that it only goes up from here, but things are rarely so perfect.
I’m attracted to men. That single sentence has been a source of anxiety and depression for a large part of my life.
Whether you’re a therapist or the person in your friend group who always helps others with their struggles, I know how difficult it can be to ask for help.
A year ago I was hopeless, broke, and I wanted to die. I believed that at the age of thirty-six it was too late to make a life worth living. I was so scared of myself because I had no idea who I really was without drugs or alcohol.
Losing my leg led to a slow and painful downward spiral toward rock bottom, and it has taken years to climb my way out.
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