anxiety

I was 40 years old the first time I said the words I need help — even though more than three decades had passed since I first became aware that something was not right.

As storytellers, disabled writers have thousands of stories inside of us, some related to our disabilities and some not. Some of us are lucky enough to have some sort of outlet for our words — in public and/or private spaces — while others still struggle to find the voice that lives within.

Trans people struggle with disproportionate levels of anxiety, depression, and other mental health challenges. This is because we don’t identify with the genders we’ve been assigned based on what our bodies look like, and because we can’t reconcile our true selves with the gender roles that are imposed upon us. This often leads to self-harm.

She was beautiful; I wanted to love her. But there was this nagging voice inside me: "What if I can’t love this baby as much as my son? Is there enough love for both of my children?"

The SSRI I took didn’t have as dramatic an effect as my stimulants did, but it allowed me to laugh and love life again and still managed to take the rough edges off my concentration.

The SSRI I took didn’t have as dramatic an effect as my stimulants did, but it allowed me to laugh and love life again and still managed to take the rough edges off my concentration.

[CN: vomit] Having been an unfeeling, sluggish husk of a person with the nap-taking skills of an elderly sloth for the past five months or so, I have reemerged too tender for this world.

One thing I’ve noticed about mental illness is that it’s a mess of contradictions. It tells us one thing, urges us to do another. We have one desire, but then act totally to the contrary because… reasons.