It gets better. Heard that before?
I may not be a gay teenager but when we talk about life in general, I disagree that life gets better.
There are no rainbows at the end of my problems.
If it is not my Mother then of course my Father is having lots of problems. My non-existent love life? Not getting better. Work – well, it most certainly is not getting better.
I know I lack hope.
How does one find hope because I am all out of any I had.
I had my first baseline mammogram tonight. That was fabulous. My coworker had told me that because I have “big boobs” that it would not hurt. It just took more than two pictures. Oh well. We’ll see what the results are.
A blog I read, Pursuit of Peace had a posting on living with someone with depression. I had never really thought about it. Part of the reason I am single is because I have hidden that part of me in previous relationships and whenever I have been honest, it doesn’t go well so perhaps if I keep my messed up self by myself, I just prevent heartache and I just go without and live alone.
What do you think? What is it like to live with someone or have a close friend with mental illness?
I lived with my Mother when she started to change and have schizophrenic tendencies and it was hard. I had to escape it.