The pain doesn’t disappear, but it's not the only thing left in your heart. Eventually some good begins to trickle in - eventually.
Self-imposed shame keeps us from extending the dialogue around mental health to ourselves.
Americans live in a place where we are monitored, mistreated, and lied to, all under the guise of freedom and democracy.
The world shakes us to our core in the most messed up ways, and this was my moment of truth.
While everyone posts their latest good news on social media, I struggle to get out of bed every day.
Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar was the first literary rendering of mental illness that felt real to me, even if it was written half a century ago.
You know how they say that in moments of extreme anxiety you almost feel your heart stop? Maybe that’s what happened to me.
Her death may have created a wave for mental health awareness in Pakistan, but it was a death she didn’t deserve.
Our life-or-death stories should not be the trending topics on your newsfeed.
I don’t buy that it’s great for society.
It dealt with the mental health of teenagers without invalidating their feelings.
I told my husband what I did and his reaction brought everything crashing down.