Veronike on Love
Powerful poem – real pain
Sam nails it again.
You know, it’s possible that everything on this list is just me. But working in mental health advocacy for some time now, I’ve learned that it’s never really “just me” or “just you” – if we’re struggling, it’s almost guaranteed that someone out there knows that struggle.
Confession: I was hospitalized four months ago and I’ve been afraid – afraid of myself, afraid of my friends, afraid for my life – almost every minute since then.
Of course, I was scared to open up about it until I realized that it’s the fear that holds us back. If we never admit that we’re hurting, we can never find the support and reassurance that we need to pull through.
It’s true that I don’t know your story or your struggle. But I hope that, by knowing mine, you’ll feel less alone.
Because it’s okay to be scared – and you’d be surprised…
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Thankfulness found by writing.
Settling into a quiet Saturday after a very busy week, my mind is aflutter and I can’t quite concentrate my thoughts. I fear this space wherein I rarely show my face anymore, also known as my blog, is collecting dust and my words are becoming meaningless. The flow I had become accustomed to is no longer flowing but instead withering in a mind that doesn’t play fairly.
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Too smart – smart enough to recover
The Hussy is getting an award.
I’m never sure if I should say anything, when these things happen.
Once a convenience store clerk gave me back my $20 in my change. I gave it back to him because
he came running after me yelling “stop thief!” it was the right thing to do.
Now, that time McDonald’s accidentally gave my daughter a juicebox AND milk with her happy meal? We kept it but that was only fair because they gave her the wrong toy and also she already drank it.
And I may have had more than my share of wine at the charity event I went to, but it’s not my fault that I drink when I’m nervous.
But this….this seems different. I appear to have been recognized for something, and it doesn’t involve any social media faux pas. Or anything about having the right to remain silent.
I recently noticed I was on the list for BlogHer Voice…
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Lizzi writes about not writing.
It’s been so long since I’ve written anything of substance, I think I’ve forgotten how it goes.
This isn’t another “I’m staring at a blank screen, with the cursor winking and winking, taunting me with my lack of inspiration…” posts – in truth, I feel rather apprehensive about it, as though the cursor might, at any moment, leap from the screen in a death-strike, or the lid of the laptop slam shut on my fingers, gnashing and howling in anger at my pretensions. I’m not comfortable. Not for me the sweaty palms and raised heartbeat of sudden anxiety, but a sullen, gnawing discouragement in the pit of my stomach, and a darkness on the peripherals of my mental horizon – Danger! – don’t do this…
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Mac is real.
Please welcome Mac Dickson McCannell to #BeReal.
Two simple words that mean so much. When I was asked to explain what “Be Real” means to me, I was at first confused and yet, excited. It has taken me weeks to figure out what angle I wanted to approach.
I think why I was confused, was because I knew it would take some introspective thought on my part. Something, I do not take enough time doing.
I talk with thousands of people everyday on the radio, and very often talk in front of hundreds at a time in public. That’s when I am the most comfortable. Put me in a one-on-one situation and I get nervous. I am a social introvert. I am very comfortable making new friends through social media. On the other hand, in “real” life, I have very few, if any, close friends.
This is my…
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TRIGGER WARNING – SUICIDAL IDEATION – Veronike fights to live and breathe.