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In my imagination, I’ve been diagnosed, incarcerated, fired, divorced, and buried. My mind is a scary place to be sometimes.
How can a boy expect to fill Dad’s shoes when he leaves?
I never know when it will hit me, nor why. Some days, I can do everything I have planned. I can even enjoy biking, hiking, or snowshoeing. But then, it hits me yet again.
I get trapped in this dark place where there’s nothing to do but sleep or cry until my head pounds. On those days, just getting out of bed is a triumph that I need to acknowledge.
Life is hard in general, but for those of us who are perceived as different, it can be especially hard.
I lived in fear of myself, and when I looked at my son, I thought it was sad and strange that I had to include myself in the list of people he needed to be protected from.
I felt like a failure as a mother. How could I have let my son become so depressed that he wanted to take his own life?
I felt totally alone and completely misunderstood. I thought the only way to numb the pain was to kill myself.
The constant stress and ridicule by a manager, who didn't want me to look better than her, made me physically ill.