Working in a mental health facility has opened my eyes to a lot of things this past year. This is very well written and I encourage you to read it. It really makes a lot of sense of things that sometimes ‘don’t make any sense’. After my Grandfather’s passing my Junior year in college I became depressed, saw a therapist the whole nine yards. I remember feeling guilty for having the feelings I had. Always trying to ignore them and hoping they would just go away. I wish I would have had this to read and the comfort of knowing I was not alone. As I read this it was like she was reading from my ‘then’ diary. Sorority girl, outgoing, good grades, etc. I admire her courage for sharing and her strength for taking control. ; ; ; ; semicolon project
Today I went to a tattoo artist, and for $60 I let a man with a giant Jesus-tattoo on his head ink a semi-colon onto my wrist where it will stay until the day I die. By now, enough people have started asking questions that it made sense for me to start talking, and talking about things that aren’t particularly easy.
We’ll start here: a semi-colon is a place in a sentence where the author has the decision to stop with a period, but chooses not to. A semi-colon is a reminder to pause and then keep going.
In April I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. By the beginning of May I was popping anti-depressents every morning with a breakfast I could barely stomach. In June, I had to leave a job I’d wanted since I first set foot on this campus as an incoming freshmen because of my mental…
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