Do What You Were Made For.
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Topic: depression
Our campaign may be over, but the work is not. If you'd like to help us change the statistics, please join us. We can't do this without you.
Every day I think about how much pain my brother must have been in — how much emotional and spiritual pain — and I wonder if therapy could have helped him. I’ll never know the answer to that question.
If you're lost, if you're trapped in the silence—please know that there is a way out. And it does not involve you leaving. It involves you staying.
When you start remembering everything you’ve lived for, you can’t help but know there’s so much more living to do.
What was it, I wonder, that was so special about that particular road trip? The one where you filmed the trees passing by through a window smudged with fingerprints and morning dew?
You call and wait to be connected, and after that minute or so wait, you speak to an elder Black woman, elder because you can hear the age and timbre of her experienced voice, and hear her breath while you cry and sob and weep in public...
Although they saw it as just a skit, it was my life. My struggle.
Starting over means that you got up off the ground, dusted off your hands, and put yourself back on the path to where you want to go.
I approached my family doctor and for the first time I told her that my body was fine, but my mind was sick.
Sometimes I wonder still what would have happened if my mother and I had opened up to each other there in the kitchen. Could we have saved each other?
I totally get it. Anxiety sucks. Anxiety has the tendency to rob us of potentially rewarding moments in our lives.
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