Even if I have no plans to leave the house — or if I had plans to leave the house and got to anxious to follow through with them — I find a great deal of power in the simple act of painting my face and commemorating the ritual with a selfie.
I had spent so much time yearning for solitude that I had never really confronted the reality of being alone.
I have sought out solitude my entire life — up until pretty recently, it was a hard thing to come by.
"If I’m being totally honest with you, I feel a burst of pride whenever someone tells me I look too put together to have been given this diagnosis."
When someone denies my personality disorder, it makes the process of identifying and challenging the thoughts and behaviors that disorder causes even more difficult. There are broken parts of me that I can’t see. I’m working very hard to uncover them and heal them in a way that improves the quality of my inner and outer life. I don’t need anyone else muddying the waters of my trauma; I do that enough all on my own.
I struggle to find language that describes the messy tangle of thoughts and memories that weigh down every spoonful. If I had to tell you about my relationship with food in a sentence: I am totally and completely obsessed with it.
"Talking about mental health is a big part of my job, but that doesn’t make my own mental illness any less personal."
I didn't fall in love with John Green’s writing the way you fall asleep: slowly and then all at once. I fell in love with it the way you pass out during a particularly nasty panic attack: all at once and then all at once.