When we are thrust into the whirlwind of a depressive episode, whether it last for a few days or weeks or more, eventually there is the breakdown, and eventually there is the comedown. And many of us wonder, and fumble over what to do next. What to do to ensure we don’t draw out our
How bout we all stop pretending that we’re concern-trolling a fat person because we’re earnestly worried about their health?
There’s a lot of ink being spilled these days on a new subset of mental health diagnoses that describe the experience of people who don’t appear to fit our cultures classic image of a depressed or anxious person. They’re the ones who, you know, are able to get out of bed in the morning and
I’ll find my eyes scanning the lines— pages and pages will go by and slowly it’ll occur to me that I haven’t registered a single word of any of it. I’ll furrow my brows and stare fiercely at a paragraph but it’s like I’m drugged up or something and my mind just floats… off.. I
I was asked recently, ‘Do you value your own life?’ It’s a strange question, one I don’t think people often ask themselves. Even those of us with depression and anxiety I reckon still feel the knee jerk reaction to respond automatically with, ‘What?! Of course! What a thing to ask!’ And I felt that too-
I was reading about some Influencer this morning—I won’t name her, don’t feel that that’s appropriate—but she’s fairly widely known in the whole Instagram sphere— an ambitious aspiring writer/flower-crown girl who posts these long-winded, stream-of-consciousness like meanderings beneath each of her posts. I couldn’t help but get pulled into it a little bit because the
Recently one night I was being a potato person–wrapped up in blankets and sprawled out on the recliner, some trash reality show on the tv. I was in a daze… mindlessly dicking around on my phone. At some point I found myself in my photo gallery. On a whim I went to my albums, and
How can we make someone take our mental health seriously? Is there ever a way? Shit. I don’t know. I don’t know and I’m done trying.
Whats it like to travel with an anxiety disorder? How often does it happen that our anxiety drains the joy out of adventure and experiencing a new place? Is it possible to still love and benefit from travel even for those of us with anxiety?
I know some of y’all out there are like me who’ve maybe been raised or maybe battered by your circumstances into being shifty-eyed, hunched over, skittish introverts who shuffle nervously and awkwardly through public spaces and are prone to spiking into a quiet panic at even the thought of having maybe inconvenienced somebody. If this