Matt Joseph Diaz
Bio
Matt Joseph Diaz Articles
My roommates [...] weren't aware that I live with bipolar disorder until a few weeks after I first moved in. In the month or so since, I’ve learned a lot about the way we approach our interpersonal relationships when living with mental illness, especially with those who are closest to us — both emotionally and literally.
Read...Between all of the political arguments and videos of dogs being excited to see their owners, I’m noticing a trend appearing all over my timeline — seemingly increasing every week. A lot of fucking people are getting engaged.
Read...For some of us, our first real taste of adulthood comes from sitting alone in a clinic, waiting to get our ding-dongs tested.
Read...This week, Matt shares what he wishes he learned in high school.
Read...As much as you want to believe people are all the same, we don’t have the luxury of being seen as the “default” in the same way white, straight, cis people often are. We don’t have the luxury of dismissing our painful history and systemic issues for the sake of everyone getting along, because we’re still in the middle of them.
Read...It isn't “political correctness” to ask you not to be an asshole. It isn't “censorship” to ask that you consider the basic human rights and feelings of others before spewing your toxic, hateful, inconsiderate bullshit for the world to see.
Read...Vulnerability is a sign of strength, not weakness, and those who see being open and sincere as symbols of fragility have a skewed idea of vulnerability. It takes NO strength to close yourself off from the world — to refuse to be who you are because you’re afraid of the reaction of those around you. Feeling deeply and openly, even in the face of resistance, is what takes true strength.
Read...Taking the time to find clothes that I liked, to dye my hair, and get tattooed — for the first time I was building a place of my own.
When I lost that ability for a while, being too weak and swollen to really put the effort in, it felt like I’d lost a part of myself. It felt like I’d regressed, like I’d gotten to the finish line and was forced back into the race.
This is the trap we fall into when we discuss recovery, emotional development, mental health, or body image: believing there’s a destination.
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