The fact that I have gotten this response from wealthy, poor, republican, democrat, pro-life, pro-choice, coastal, inner continental, northern, southern, God believing, God denying, and more shows me there is a greater desire to love one another again rather than continue to shove a wedge between us. The main problem is that division is comfortable

I was working for a cruise line and had been on the ship for eight months when the world shut down.⁠ Days and days went by before we really could comprehend the magnitude of what this could mean.⁠ I wasn’t alone.⁠ The crew was also devastated and concerned.⁠ What would happen?⁠ How long would this go on? ⁠

is it just me or does the holiday season bring a shitload of energy and build up and then the most depressive mental state the week between Christmas and New Years?

NOT actually - but you’d think it was.

Anyone else have these narcissistic-type individuals GRAVITATE towards you? Because same.

I don’t know HOW or WHY, but they come in flocks. Is it me? Do I have a sign on my head that reads “Searching for Narcissist to enter my life immediately”

Living with Spina Bifida hasn’t always been easy, but the resources and support that have been provided to my family and me, as well as the skills and lessons I have learned from them, have given me the tools to tackle the unique circumstance of having a disability and being given a life-changing diagnosis.

I began journaling, journaling turned into songwriting, and songwriting gave me a voice to share my story through music. I didn’t realize it then, but as I was writing, I found my healing and my purpose. I believe one person’s story is someone else’s hope. Spreading hope is my mission.

I see you learning, growing, evolving. I see you getting stronger, day-by-day.

Postnatal depression (PND) or postnatal anxiety (PNA) does not discriminate. It can hit any mother at any time, no matter their personality type or background, so I’ve now learnt.

When I was 5 months pregnant with my second child, I experienced a pain like no other.

If you are struggling with loving someone with PTSD and substance abuse, you are not alone.

As the mask came down over his face, he looked up at me and smiled. “I know I am safe Mummy” his eyes whispered. He fell asleep and I was asked to leave. I looked down at my little boy, so tiny on that table, and knew with every fiber of my being that he was ok.

Every time I hear the song “Boulevard of Broken Dreams,” I’m instantly back in my mom’s vehicle driving to my boyfriend’s billet’s house. He played hockey in the small town and this was a burnt CD I had in her car.

May we be reminded that success is not in a title, a big win or lofty accomplishment..but it is in the quality of our relationships. And may we run towards our dreams and not the one that society has set for us.

2 years ago I did the thing I hated the absolute most - run. And even more I hated the cold. So of course combining the 2 things seemed like the best idea. I picked up some expensive winter running shoes, a warm toque and gloves, layered up and started winter running.

Do not read this post if you’re offended by adult temper-tantrums…

I never spoke to him again, because I remembered he raped me. But there was nothing I could do about it. I didn’t remember in time to get a kit. I was drunk, so it would end up being his word against mine. I knew how that would go in Tennessee. There was nothing I could do. That’s the worst part. I couldn’t, I can’t do anything. He will never get justice for what he did to me.

My story is not about answering the phone when I was three months pregnant with my third daughter. Or hearing the ominous words, “You need to come right in.” Somewhere in there I heard the word “cancer”.

This isn't a feel-good story. Rather, an opportunity to get my anger and tears out. I am gay. That part I've accepted, and proud of! But guess what. My parents aren't so accepting.

My story is a little different from most here. I am not a survivor, that is, my own body did not endure the assault of cancer to it directly. The cancer that I survived was my son’s burden.

A question has been bothering me lately, and the question is "When is it your mental health and when are you simply being an asshole". It feels controversial but speaking from experience -- I have lived with mental health issues for years, with diagnosis ranging from schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, anxiety, depression, just an anger issue... Never really receiving the same diagnosis twice.