I’m jealous of those with smooth skin, not on their faces but everywhere else. Clean flesh, delicate, never maimed. My scars tell a story that I’d prefer to delete. And unlike the spirit that intensifies, gets wiser and more vigilant with its wounds, bodies are lazy. Destroy it once, it will never be perfect again. Read More …
Author: anonymous
The weather is so bipolar. My sister-in-law is bipolar. My son is divorced. Well, his mother-in-law is bipolar. What can you expect? It’s all over, the judgment. The stigma won’t go away. Yet, I believe the greatest stigma is inside my own heart. I hate myself. I hate myself for being so hopelessly bipolar. I Read More …
A caterpillar so small and slowNo one thinks he can blossom or growHe doesn’t knowWhy he was created without shine or glow Why all his friends runAnd everyone says he ain’t funLife is just a scam and conHe feels like he’s done The voices in his brainDrives him insaneWith no direction or laneHe feels like Read More …
My Story In the middle of a very chilly winter, I took a big step in my frum (religious) journey and moved into a large community where I would be able to live, go to shul – and the biggest benefit for me – attend Seminary. I was excited. I was thrilled. I had no Read More …
I am a Pediatrician, a mother of four, and I have Bipolar 2. I was hospitalized this year for something that had nothing to do with my bipolar. Yet, when I saw my records after my stay, I noticed that every note from every staff member started out “XX-year old woman with bipolar presents with Read More …
In the prison called my mind, grey clouds of mush rush up against one another, thundering loudly above my eyes. Sometimes, I hear the crash so loud it makes me stumble and fall. I try to get up, but the loud sounds keep me down. I am scared. I can’t find my way out of Read More …
I always tell my story like this: I was born with generalized anxiety disorder: a genetic, textbook case. Because of it, nearly my entire childhood was hell. I was afraid of everything, all the time. And if there was nothing to be afraid of, I was just plain afraid, the venomous feeling spurting through my Read More …
I tried reaching out to you, my sister. Calling to see how you were feeling. Just a simple call that most people don’t think twice about. But when I make that call, thinking about it twice is an understatement. It takes thinking, pushing myself, trying, and whatnot, to have the courage to press those buttons. I tried Read More …
I wish you knew how hard some days are for me. I wish you knew how frustrated I feel when I have a setback. I wish you knew how hard my mental illness can be on my friends and family. I wish you knew how annoying it is to be scared of things that most Read More …