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I began to equate love with being thin. Still, on the outside, I worked hard to make it look like I had it all together.
In my imagination, I’ve been diagnosed, incarcerated, fired, divorced, and buried. My mind is a scary place to be sometimes.
I’ve always felt different from other people. I didn’t always know why I was different, or what I did that made me different — I still don’t realize it sometimes.
I know that taking care of myself – body, mind, soul and spirit - needs to be my first priority. I’m still on a journey to find balance in life.
I get trapped in this dark place where there’s nothing to do but sleep or cry until my head pounds. On those days, just getting out of bed is a triumph that I need to acknowledge.
At 63, I was diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis, caused by a rare case of pneumonia that I never knew I had. My lungs were completely black. The situation was dire.
I didn’t even want to try taking a risk; defeat was unacceptable, shameful, and had consequences that affected everyone around you.
This is one of the most painful realities of being the one left behind. From now on, they’re going to miss every birthday, every anniversary, every Christmas morning.
I would daydream about someone seeing my flaws and loving me anyway. It took me a long time to find my identity in something that goes beyond my skills or appearance.
There are people all around me, interacting with each other, having fun together: but I’m sitting here alone.
It seemed like getting an abortion was the right thing to do at the time. I wasn’t prepared for the emotional whirlwind that came soon after.
Even though I knew she would never be like everyone else her age, I still hoped she would be happy.
I lived in fear of myself, and when I looked at my son, I thought it was sad and strange that I had to include myself in the list of people he needed to be protected from.
PTSD can lay dormant until a new event brings it back to life.
There are days when I have a pity party for myself, when I mourn because I can’t have just one normal day.
I felt like a failure as a mother. How could I have let my son become so depressed that he wanted to take his own life?
I felt totally alone and completely misunderstood. I thought the only way to numb the pain was to kill myself.
The constant stress and ridicule by a manager, who didn't want me to look better than her, made me physically ill.
PTSD affects not only the person suffering from it, but the family as well.
Never dated, in my 30s, and OK with it.
Don’t lose hope. You don't have to be socially awkward forever.
There are still many stigmas surrounding anxiety — which may keep you from seeking the help you need.
It’s time to educate ourselves about how chemical imbalances in the brain determine mental illnesses.