My first day at University (College in some countries), as a 31-year-old, turned out a little different from what I had hoped. It was a big thing I was doing, heading into study as an adult, after about four years of mental illness. I was pretty anxious, and that showed when I found myself sitting in a Chinese language class rather than the Psychology class I had enrolled for. I made a quiet escape, knowing full well that while learning Chinese might be interesting and even useful, I knew I would never pass. Languages and me have never gone together. Continue reading
At what point do you say to yourself, “I need help”? And how many times do you say it before you actually reach out? Do you wait to hang by a single thread? Or do you wait for that last thread to start tearing before someone else tells you to grab on for dear life because you’ll end up at the bottom, dead?
Well, we’ll all end up as putrid corpses. One day the braided threads of our lives, as we know them now, will unravel. But you get my drift. Continue reading