Why mindlessly share the image of a dead child to confirm your own goodness? It’s someone else’s tragedy – where is the respect, the tact, the compassion?
‘She’s gone.’ His voice cracks in raw emotion. I crumble. All I can think of are the times we spent together. You were the light. I miss you, dear friend.
Dear mom, how can I help you understand my mind, if I do not understand it myself? I need help. I am struggling to fight all these nightmares all on my own.
This is for any of you out there who are victims of parentification – who had to ‘be the parent’ instead of having a parent. Whose childhood was stolen.
Living with a mental illness means fighting a constant internal battle. Just know, you are doing so much better than you think, and there is help out there.