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Accountability

The last time I sought help for my depression, I went through a slew of psychologists and psychiatrists. Having grown up in the church, I even visited a few Christian therapists. The one I ended up choosing was not Christian; rather, she was a prim and proper Jewish woman with a smooth, articulate voice that managed to cut through all the BS in my life. Unlike other therapists who were prone to asking, "So how does that make you feel?" or "What do you think that means?" she actually analyzed my thoughts and reactions, often giving her opinion and advice on top of my jumbled interpretation of events. She was not afraid to chastise me, which made me shed quite a few...

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Woke Up This Morning Afraid I Was Gonna Live

The first stage is denial. The signs are all there: insomnia as well as bouts of 14+ hour sleep marathons; withdrawal from social interactions; resistance to activities I once enjoyed; my emotional health taking a toll on my physical health; and a general indifference to the joys of life. And the crying. Oh, the crying. The first stage is denial. Long ago, a friend told me that I had a "paste-on smile." When I questioned the meaning behind this phrase, he pointed out that I had a very nice smile, but it always made him wonder what I was hiding underneath. I had divulged to him some of my darkest thoughts and fears, you see. I flash my "paste-on smile" to the public. Even to J....

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