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They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. I’m not sure who “they” are, but sometimes I feel that absence means the heart grew sicker. Writing is my cathartic outlet so when I stop writing I know something is going on.
They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. I’m not sure who “they” are, but sometimes I feel that absence means the heart grew sicker. Writing is my cathartic outlet so when I stop writing I know something is going on.
I have Bipolar II Disorder. Apparently. Or not. Who can tell? It’s not like you can take a blood test and all is revealed. But I exhibit many of the traits and sometimes a label is handy. And sometimes it is not. But there’s one thing that can be said for sure. I am emotionally dysregulated
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I don’t know if my official mental health diagnosis is bipolar II – or not. There appears to be no consensus on anything aside from the fact I have emotional dysregulation and severe insomnia issues. In my opinion, those two things are more than enough to make anybody go crazy. But mental health diagnosis or not, my life is full of highs and lows.
It bothers me when I don’t write in my blog. Not because I think my writing is doing anyone a public service, but because this forum is my outlet for internal rumination. And if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s internal rumination.
Life is filled with moments where we hope. And where we dream. I have learned to be wary of hope but to embrace dreams.
Music is powerful. Babies are comforted by music in utero. My son used to wake up and dance to the ‘Sound of Music’ when I was six months pregnant and performing in the show. So it stands to reason something as emotionally challenging as recovery from [name your problem] can benefit from soaking in the soporific sounds of music that speaks to the heart.
I spend too much time talking about myself. There are some brilliant orators out there who articulate important things so much better than me. Here are three of my favourites talks about mental health. They are engaging and educational viewing, regardless of how well, or unwell, your particular mental state might be.
It’s six months today since I scoffed handfuls of pills. Six whole months. A lot has happened in that time and the […]
Sometimes the pain of talking is too overwhelming and the pressure in my chest just bursting to come forth, and I let […]
Sometimes I stop talking This irritates other people because it happens right at the moment when I am most expected to talk. […]
Today I watched the film Embrace again. It should be compulsory viewing and reminded me that if I can’t love the body I’m in right now, I won’t love the body I dream of having. The perfect body is a perfect lie.
The scarecrow wanted a brain. The tin man a heart. And the lion – well he lacked courage. If your brain malfunctions, […]
How are you, is so common our responses are automated. That’s fine for chit chat with the checkout chick, but when you’re with your nearest and dearest, when you have big emotions you’d love to share (or would benefit from sharing), it’s not helpful to reply with a conditioned, I’m fine. But what other options are there? Are you okay? is becoming popular, but it’s still not enough.
Over the weekend, I contacted a number of friends asking how they felt when they found out about my overdose. While sometimes the truth hurts, I’m so very grateful for their honesty.