Excuses Or Explanations: How I Feel About My New Diagnosis

Excuses Or Explanations: How I Feel About My New Diagnosis

Knowing what’s brewing inside your brain might not change much of your day-to-day, but it can certainly put you at ease from the fear that you are an other – too different to be helped, too odd to ever live a normal life. It shouldn’t be what defines you, but in a world of labels, it’s much more powerful to affix one upon yourself than to have to fight against anything someone might assume upon you.

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How Accepting My Mental Illness Changed My Life

How Accepting My Mental Illness Changed My Life

So now, you tell me. Was ignorance bliss or was awareness my savior? Was my diagnosis my crutch or my comfort and explanation? Should you continue sleeping through the nightmare because you just want some rest, or should you violently wake yourself up and go through the painful process of dealing with things?

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What They're Really Saying When They Call You 'Sensitive'

What They're Really Saying When They Call You 'Sensitive'

It’s no secret that some words can be maliciously used to hit you right in the heart. To those who are working through their understanding of the world and feel at odds with how they are feeling versus what they are told they should be feeling –this story is for you.

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Why You Should Be Your Own Friend

Why You Should Be Your Own Friend

We work hard to be kind. Good people don't bully others. But it seems they often don’t mind being bullies to themselves. And that's exactly how self-loathing grows. Who enjoys spending time with someone who offers hatred and bitterness when it’s so much more pleasant to be encouraged, loved and supported? I have found that working on becoming my own friend has helped me in many ways...

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What a Flashback Feels Like

What a Flashback Feels Like

Imagine a big storage case, with a ton of clips sitting inside and when you recall one, your brain works like a vending machine to dispense it to your consciousness.

With flashbacks, or in my case, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, the vending machine is broken and releases too many clips out at once, or starts dispensing them without someone placing an order, at the wrong time. Anything I have lived through can be easily accessed at any moment. Good or bad memories—the brain is dispensing without regard.

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