Each day means a new twenty-four hours. Each day means everything’s possible again.
There is hope, even when your brain tells you there isn't.
Maybe we all have darkness inside of us and some of us are better at dealing with it than others.
Soft hearts make the universe worth living in.
There is no standard normal. Normal is subjective. There are seven billion versions of normal on this planet.
Depression comes in bouts. Like boxing. Dad is in the blue corner.
What seems to be clear is that we humans are an accumulation of our traumatic experiences, that each trauma contributes to our biology and that this biology determines, to some extent, how we respond to further traumatic events as they emerge in our lives.
My dark days made me strong. Or maybe I already was strong, and they made me prove it.
Only a third of PTSD sufferers receive treatment because it is tough to diagnose and a challenge to treat, a situation further complicated by the fact that sufferers are often hard to reach.
It often feels as if I’m not here, that I’m a figment of my own imagination. There are days when I feel so lightly connected to the earth that the threads that tether me to the planet are gossamer thin, spun sugar.
Feelings don't try to kill you, even the painful ones. Anxiety is a feeling grown too large. A feeling grown aggressive and dangerous. You're responsible for its consequences, you're responsible for treating it. But ... you're not responsible for causing it. You're not morally at fault for it. No more than you would be for a tumor.
While the phenomenon of burnout has existed for years … it manifests differently in millennials… Young people today are facing their first and, subsequently, second burnout in quick succession.