We have a lot of them, don’t we? I know I do. I have changed mine every few months only because I want to do it all. I want to be a published author. I want to be a life coach. I want to be a speaker. I want to build a community for those… Continue reading Dreams.
Twelve. That’s how many years anxiety and depression tried to steal my joy. My happiness. My life. I remember I was nine years old when I felt the first wave of panic wash over me. I wasn’t in any danger. There really was no reason for it. I had no idea that one… Continue reading Displaced in an ever connected world..
I’m afraid. Fear on most days will try to consume me. I never used to feel this way. Really. You may even want to call me a liar, but if you came to me even a year or so ago, you’d know I was telling you the truth. Anything I did, never came from being… Continue reading Willingness to take risks.
I’ve been hearing more people talk about mental illness & that makes me really happy. You see, so many people that don’t have it/have never experienced it, are incredibly misinformed. They think that simply because someone takes medicine or has to go to therapy, or lives their life a little differenty…it somehow makes them a… Continue reading Anxiety is easy.
So I’ve been juggling with the fact of wanting to actually come back and write on my blog. It’s been a long time. Writing makes me happy. I read & journal everyday. It’s something I’ve done for the longest time. Something just for me. And I find because it’s “mine” I get really weary of sharing… Continue reading High on loving you.
& scars, show me all the scars you hide. & hey, if your wings are broken… please take mine so yours can open too. I haven’t written for a long while. Well, that’s a lie. I have, I just haven’t posted any of what I’ve written. So here’s the thing. I feel like… Continue reading Hands. Put your empty hands in mine.
It’s funny. I don’t write in journals much these days. It’s almost as though we were dating at one point. & then they gave up on me, or me on my journals. I used to give every piece of who I am to the pages in my notebooks. I would pour out my deepest, darkest… Continue reading Anxiety.