“You Did This to Yourself”

The depression slump that swallows you whole. The kind that makes you doubt your abilities to look after yourself in a way some might call the bare minimum. It is a grave dug out for you, all the while everyone around you keeps repeating that you were the one who willingly clawed your way into the dirt six feet under.

And My Scars Are The Only Thing You Will Ever See

I've already written about that one very frustrating appointment I had with my psychologist a bit before Christmas. There were a lot of things that bothered me in that conversation, but one of them was noticeably bigger than the rest. I could not stop thinking about the way my psychologist approached the entire issue: making me feel responsible for my own reckless behavior and thus harming the people around me more than myself. I think at the very core of this discussion was the idea that I was doing this to myself because I was making that conscious decision to harm myself instead of doing something productive. That it was my responsibility, my fault even if you will, that I was cutting my arms into shreds.

This Is So Hard For Us

Many a time you hear people talk about the struggles of having a loved one who's mentally ill; how challenging it is for the family and friends to live with the constant stress and pressure of someone really important fighting their inner demons. There's a lot of support groups meant for family and friends of the mentally ill, where they can share their experiences and sympathize with each other.