Defying Definition
If I were to make a list of all the words I, or others, might use to describe me, it might include: “weird,” “inconsiderate,” “quiet,” “lonely,” “goofy,” “kind,” “awkward,” “focused,” and “depressed.”
Topic: depression
She Is a Fighter
Her heart is pounding rapidly. Her head is throbbing. It feels like her chest is constricting and she can’t seem to catch her breath.
Depression, Acceptance, and Being a Girl Who Likes Girls
you question your worth as you attend therapy while your friends have slumber parties.
There Is No One Way To “Get It Right”
There is tremendous pressure to be a “good” crazy. To match the criteria, to see yourself in the depictions from books or television. To follow the straight line of recovery, as if it’s that easy. As if it’s a straight line at all.
Love is For Everyone
Depression told me I wasn’t enough, it told me I was a burden, it told me that I wasn’t worthy of love.
The Best Gift I Can Give Myself
It’s been a long time since I’ve actually enjoyed my birthday. Over the last few years, it’s been a painful reminder that with another year passing, I’m still a mess.
Happiness Goes On
This was the kind of depression that made me feel lonely when I was being hugged.
What I’ll Miss
Within a span of two years I’ve been hospitalized four times and made three attempts. This summer I spent 30 days in two psychiatric hospitals. Less than one week after leaving one hospital, I made another attempt.
And So I Stay
I have scars on my skin and on my soul. I am healing, but I am not healed; I am recovering, but have not recovered. I am a work in progress.
Somewhere Between Life, Death, and a Mountain
I know this place because I have been here so often I should have it furnished. This is the place where hope and the well wishes and good intentions of close ones are not permitted to enter.
Believing in What Isn’t Guaranteed
If and when I find myself at rock bottom, I will make my peace there.
Smile When You Are Ready
Two years ago, my younger sister and only sibling died by suicide. Suicide has touched me. No, let me rephrase that, suicide has raked it’s claws across me, dug in, and refused to let go. I’m now what is commonly referred to as a “survivor of suicide.”
