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You may have heard some variation of the famous saying, "perspective is everything." While many people believe this is a good life philosophy, I disagree. Perspective is vital, but it is not everything.
In a perfect world, it would be nice to avoid adversity altogether, but unfortunately, everybody has to face unfavorable circumstances at some point. However, dwelling on adversity only leads to dismay, and focusing on the potential positive outcomes in any situation is much more likely to work in your favor.
Recently, I have noticed a disturbing diet-talk trend whenever I am with a group of women. Last week, for example, someone at my job said they eat less than 1000 calories while dieting. Another is preparing for her upcoming wedding by eliminating all carbohydrates. Constantly, I hear things like, "I'm trying to be good, so I'm not eating sugar," or "I was so bad last night because I ate ice cream."
For a very long time, I wasn’t comfortable with myself. During my journey to healing, I quickly realized that it’s a lot easier for us to make friends with strangers than our own selves. It took me such a long time to make friends with myself and slowly learn to love who I am. Now that I’m here, I hope to help as many people as possible find their way to self-love.
I’ve never described it in these terms, but I hacked my skin-picking disorder. Excoriation disorder used to control every aspect of my life—physically and emotionally—and I was certain I’d suffer forever. Today, I can share with you that this is far from reality. I might have skin picking disorder, but it doesn’t have me.
As I tried to come up with a topic for this blog post, my mind spun a web of negative thoughts. I realized that the deadline for publication was looming. Like many weeks, I scolded myself for procrastinating. Then I started thinking about unrelated issues like my work performance, unmet goals, rejection, friendships, and relationships. Depression tortured me with lies that I will reveal in this post. Here are five of the lies my depression has told me and what I have learned from them.
My schizoaffective disorder tells me a lot of bad things about myself and makes me think I’m a bad person. Here are some of the ways that I feel like a bad person because of my schizoaffective disorder and how I fight back.
When facing repetitive verbal abuse, you may wonder if abusers can change and become loving and supportive people. Can a verbally abusive person change and stop using hurtful words and intimidation on others? Of course, the answer will depend on the individual and their dedication to embracing change.
It's hard to be happy when you struggle with anxiety. Anxiety, in and of itself, contradicts happiness. If you think about it, when you're happy, you're experiencing positive emotions. But when you're anxious, you're experiencing fear, uncertainty, worry, and doubt.
When faced with a difficult situation, it can be overwhelming and sometimes lead to low self-esteem and self-doubt. This makes it hard to stay motivated and confident. In my experience, it is important to develop coping mechanisms that help you over the long term because everyone experiences difficult times in their lives.

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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!