This story begins with me holding a grown-up’s hand.
This is not a metaphor. It really happened.
Everything is going to be OK. Then again, OK doesn’t mean anything.
The diagnosis, while not changing me as a person, helped me to understand myself better. It helped me to treat myself better.
People like that love company.
Sometimes my posts betray me. I snitch on myself, as the kids say.
In this house, you say goodbye when you leave.
I can’t just lay in bed all day. I have kids and responsibilities. Even if I didn’t, I still can’t stay in bed all day.
You don’t know what’s missing because you don’t even realize a piece should be there.
Whatever your situation is, no matter how universal it might feel, know that it’s different for almost everyone.