Depression, Acceptance, and Being a Girl Who Likes Girls
you question your worth as you attend therapy while your friends have slumber parties.
Topic: healing
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.
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.”
Tomorrow Looks Good on You
Tomorrow exists to show you why you held on today.
Connecting the Dots
Getting to play with the artist that helped me find hope and purpose felt like a collective achievement, as though I was representing something bigger than myself, bigger than just that moment. It was about witnessing tangible proof that things do get better.
2AM: Facing My Reflection
One might characterize my behavior as “an impending disaster.” They wouldn’t be wrong. But how did I get there?
Oasis of Hope
I wish our doubts and fears made sense. I wish they would listen to the logic shown in the love of our friends and family. I wish they could be laid to rest with the simple knowledge that there is someone out there who cares.
The Poetry Bandit: Stealing Back My Love of Writing From Alcoholism
Why couldn’t I just drink normally? Why couldn’t I stop after one glass, one beer—or even two? Heck, why couldn’t I go a whole Monday without pouring myself, four to six glasses before my lunch even arrived at the restaurant?
