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.
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.
I know we’re not supposed to mention those things. It makes us uncomfortable, but we’re all adults here.
There are so many pops and cracks, you’d think I was a walking pile of rap music record albums.
“Who has seen me today? Did I talk to people like this? What is wrong with my face? Am I freakin’ melting?!”
Had you told me two days earlier that this would have been Christmas, I would have screamed in worried agony. I would have called it a failure and seen my biggest fear become a reality.