They were like wolves. No, hyenas. Ripping and tearing, feasting on my most intimate frailty. I tried to fight, to make my worth known. I wasn’t very convincing. God, I couldn’t convince myself. I just didn’t know that. They could smell it. The fear. The insecurity. They loved it. They hunted it, gorged on it. Before I knew what happened they had all had a piece. Bellies full, my self shredded and torn, they relished. I was good for them. Their egos. I was their bond. I just didn’t know it.
This is an example of blatant and condescending stigmatization of mental illness.
It is the most ignorant, uneducated, condescending I’ve actually heard. This guy’s arguments are so flawed that I can’t even…ahhh! Please, you have to listen to this!
What I find confusing about being Bipolar is that I don’t know which is the real me? Am I happy or hypomanic? Am I sick (low thyroid?), grumpy or am I depressed? Where on the spectrum do I lie? Where am I? Which one of these moods represents the real me? Or am I just all of them? ~ Amy
Yesterday I was feeling down. Then I realised that I have cold AND HOT running water and I was happy again. We are blessed. There are countless little things that we are blessed to have access to. We do not have a right to anything, we are just lucky to live where we do which allows us a standard of living that many are without. BE HAPPY! No matter how hard things are, or how bad you think you have it, at least you probably live somewhere where you have access to help for you problems. We are rich and we are blessed. We have everything we need and more.