Yesterday I was so stressed and anxious, boiling with frustration and panic. Then I helped a homeless guy, and a friend helped me. I’m feeling good again.
Bipolar Poem: She’s lying in her bed / Still breathing but she’s wishing she was dead / She’s dancing round the place / The biggest smile across her face…
Education is like a conveyor belt in our perfectionistic society. I based my identity on my grades. I was hospitalised. Now I’m working on imperfectionism.
I had my dad for 30 wonderful years. He was an inspiration, and he didn’t deserve to die at 60. I do my best to step forward, to make positive choices.