depression

Letter to my beautiful girl

It hasn’t been more than thirty minutes since I last looked back, and waved goodbye.  I finished my tour of anxiety through security, looked back to you, and waved.  You immediately waved back.  I could see the excitement in you tha

Shaming the shame: #ShareYourStruggle

At 15-years-old, I overdosed on painkillers and ended up in the hospital for my first – and only – suicide attempt vis a vis a cry for help. I remember being relieved to get therapy out of the ordeal, but almost as soon as we had returned from the hospital, the fear of shame was instilled in me. My parents warned me not to tell anyone that I was struggling with depression. I certainly shouldn’t let anyone know why I was really in the hospital because I would be judged.

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