No matter what I have been through I am not alone, there is hope and recovery is possible.
Posts tagged hope
I like to please people and make them happy. When in fact I need to make myself happy, because in the end it is my life and my story and I’m the writer.
“People tend to think of suicide as not seeing or appreciating the good in their life, but that’s not it. Usually there’s a little bit of good, a lot of bad, and no break from any of it, so suicide is about wanting to be free; free from the relentlessness of life. If you don’t like your job, you take a holiday; if you’re tired from housework you take a break; but when it’s your body and brain causing the difficulty, there is no escape.”
I have schizoaffective disorder, but that is not who I am.
Over the last few months, my 7-year-old daughter has been asking a lot of questions about death, dying, the soul, and heaven. The trigger was the opening scene in the movie UP, where Mr. Frederickson and his wife Ellie’s life history is briefly presented. This sequence always makes me cry. It’s a poignant story of […]
I knew I’d been running on fumes for months but I had to keep going anyway. There is always something to take care of but sometimes it can get so overwhelming you don’t know where to start and ultimately nothing gets done. I woke up on a Thursday morning and noticed I had what felt […]
Originally posted on The Sobriety Collective. I promised you a three-part series. I know, I know. But it’s like, where the hell do I even begin? When people say, “OMG, I’m soooo OCD about [X, Y, Z]” I don’t really think they realize what the eff OCD actually does to a person. I’m not a […]
I always knew I was different. I was a sensitive child. Some of my first memories consist of coming home from school and thinking about my day and all of the things I had done badly, incorrectly, or the ways in which I had failed to be the daughter my parents would love. As a […]
For years I cranked out newspaper feature stories, unaware that my own tale of misery lurked around the bend. I wrote about a 12-year-old girl whose evil stepfather’s treatment propelled her to live under a highway bridge. I interviewed a poor elderly woman who resorted to a regular diet of canned dog food. And then the writing stopped […]