My dad died. I only know my own grief, and even that is debatable. If you’re hoping to comfort someone who’s grieving, here are a couple of things to know.
More than any other unsolicited mental health advice I’ve received over the course of my life is the admonishment to “fake it till you make it.”
For a long time, I kept a mental list of things that I’d do once I was “better.” I yearned for a sound mind and a thin body — two things I was not born with but figured I could somehow earn. Once I had those two things, I could do anything I wanted.
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.
EMDR is the most compassionate and empowering therapy I have ever undergone.
Bob’s Burgers is familiar and cozy and something I can let myself fall into completely. Having it on is like a constant, hilarious lullaby — one that I fall asleep to more often than not.