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In my last post, I discussed my self-esteem battle working as an actor and how that can translate to other lines of work. I spoke on the importance of knowing that sometimes progress is made in ways that aren't immediately visible. Today, I'd like to talk about the types of progress that I can control. In doing this, I'll identify some areas that I'd like to improve and how doing that helps me achieve my goals and build self-esteem.
As someone who has experienced anxiety for a long time, I’ve become aware of specific situations that trigger feeling anxious. One situation that can trigger my anxiety is when I make a mistake, and then anxiety makes me focus on that mistake. The problem with this is that, as we know, mistakes happen often. There, this can sometimes be something that’s continuously troubling.
Self-compassion doesn't come easily for me. However, where once I was quite hard on myself, I've made administering self-compassion part of my routine. Now that I've got my attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) under control, being self-compassionate and reminding myself of personal progress are even more important.
A successful attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) recovery just means you’ve successfully learned how to live with ADHD. This can be a long journey but is worth it. Learn how I started my successful ADHD recovery.
Sometimes—not too often, but occasionally—I stand in front of the full-length mirror on my bathroom wall and ask the reflection staring back at me, "Will I ever learn to love all the parts of my own body?" This can be a complicated question for someone with an eating disorder history, and as of right now, I do not have a clear, definitive answer. 
In my previous post, I wrote about working less to cope with a surge in depression. Soon after, I realized that I was not only more depressed than usual, but I was also experiencing severe burnout. In fact, I have never burned out to such a degree in my life, and honestly, it's terrifying. But now that I have a potent cocktail of burnout and depression to deal with, I have strengthened my resolve to rest well.
It is no surprise that I regularly see therapists that help me deal with my past and present. I know now that this can help my future as I continue to heal and move forward into a life that I want and need. However, there were years when I was reluctant to seek therapy for many reasons and constantly lived in a state of anxiety and depression without therapy.
Sharing personal stories about self-harm can be powerfully restorative for audiences and storytellers alike. Here's how they can help—and how to make sure your self-harm personal stories, should you choose to share them, are helpful too.
My anxiety is, thankfully, well managed right now. But six months ago, my anxiety was so bad that I couldn't escape the intrusive thoughts that taunted me to end it all. I had intrusive thoughts of suicide.
The fact that time blindness is part of adult attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) is all too clear to me. For example, I'm not too fond of early afternoons, primarily for how quickly they seem to appear each day.

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Tali
I look forward to being unconscious for 4-6 hours every night (if I'm lucky). I don't dream. It's the only relief I have. I used to enjoy video games, but my husband hated me playing them so I gave them up. I had my own business but my husband told me I had to stop, so I did. He walks out on me whenever I don't do what he wants. He's allowed to have hobbies and I better not complain, just take care of the kids. My whole life had to be given up because it suits him and I've become nothing more than a maid and a babysitter. I love my kids but I just don't think I can take him finding some new thing to take away every September when he starts ignoring all of us because of the fair he acts in every year that time. He straight out told me this year he loves fair more than me. I don't have anything left to try for, I'm not a young lady anymore. I don't want to die, but I don't want to live...live...survive anymore. I doubt what I've been doing can be qualified as living. Thing is the rest of the year he's good to us. But somehow it's always me, I'm the problem, he just turns it around. Always carry on, carried on before, like a machine. This time I don't have it in me. I swear if he says one more time to me if doesn't get to do one of his many hobbies he'll get depressed and kill himself I'm just going to lose it. He doesn't care what I've been carrying these past 12 years. Doubt he noticed. He didn't notice when he left for fair with me fresh out of abdominal surgery to take care of a newborn, 1 year old, and 3 kids under 10. Apparently it interfered with him so much he was annoyed with me for not being fully healed from it after only one week. Not sure who told him people heal from major surgery in a week, but whatever. I doubt he even notices unless it inconveniences him, but he'll only get mad if it does. I wish I had some helpful or inspiring words, but I don't. I'm just existing with no reason anymore. I had reasons before, but they don't make sense anymore. I want to cry, but even that is too much effort.
Roxie S. Mitchell
Exactly what I needed to read right now. After all, I've grown up being abused and then screamed at for crying afterwards, so this article is very insightful because it helps us realize that crying is actually a normal part of being a human. Thank you for this!
Sandy G.
To Kelly Torbitz-Your parents punished you properly by making you wear the diaper and rubberpants.As a mom,i have heard of older girls being punished with diapers and rubberpants and i think it helps shape them up.The diapers and rubberpants are not only worn for punishment,but also to make girls feel cute and little girlish.
Word Warrior Mama
On the other hand . . .

I read this book many years ago, just as I was entering the turmoil of remembering, questioning and doubting myself all the way (as I'd been covertly taught over a lifetime). I happened to mention to my two sisters one day, "This is so strange but I've been diagnosed with PTSD." Both my sisters surprised me by responding, "Me too."

THEN I happened upon an old book manuscript that my now deceased father had written (not published), wherein the protagonist was obviously based upon himself and he rapes his "fiancee," who had my unusual name. Yes, truly.

Then I made myself look at the peculiar memory I always had where he violently threatened me but somehow I had never been able to recall what came before or after the episode. I had to admit that was a bit strange.

The pressures and powers to forget sexual abuse are great, both in family and society. In fact, I've come to the sad conclusion that the vast majority of survivors never really deal with their childhood wounds (a neglect for which there are always repercussions).

To critique an encouragement of people trusting their intuition in such matters is really getting the prescription dangerously wrong.
Christina
I hear your voices. Can you please help me let me know what medication you’re on. You could save lives with this information. My email is christinacrawford555@hotmail.com
Thanks!