Posts Tagged ‘growth’

The Leftovers

May 4, 2010

by “The Leftovers”

Everyone knows how it feels to be left out.  It’s an experience everyone faces at one point or another.  Learning how to deal with being a leftover and finding the positive lessons can make the ordeal a lot less painful.

I have always considered myself a shy person. Growing up with a twin sister who was more outgoing and popular was nice, but I have always disliked comparison between us; after all we are two different individuals. “You kill the fun,” those were the words many of my young friends and relatives used when describing me. I felt sad every time they called me that.
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Depression Through the Eyes of Three Twenty-Somethings

May 1, 2010

by “Dopey,” “Happy,” and “Grumpy”

Depression affects people from all walks of life, yet few people are willing to talk about it openly. These three young women who have experienced it firsthand are here to share their stories.

“Dopey” has suffered from depression for six years and still struggles to cope:

I know what it’s like.

I know how it feels.

I am a soldier, fighting myself.

Many a night, I sit on my loveseat, staring blankly at my computer screen in front of me. My TV is white noise in my ears as I click from one website to another, seeing things I have already seen. (more…)

Children of My Own

April 29, 2010

by “I.M. Wyzer”

Sitting in the grocery cart ahead of me in line was an adorable, curly-haired boy. Smiling at me, he reached over to grab a candy bar while his mother unloaded the cart. She saw the candy bar in his hand and said, “Not today, honey.” The little cherub responded by transforming into a wailing, flailing demon. I smiled at his mother in sympathy but thought to myself, “No child of mine will ever act that way in public”—and then I had children of my own.
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A Fish Can Walk

April 21, 2010

by “Mud Skipper”

What do you mean, Grandma and Grandpa are still married? I thought Grandpa was married to that lady he lives with,” my daughter said innocently. I had no answer. Like a pin puncturing a balloon, these questions popped the bubble of silence I had inhabited my whole life. Sitting at the ordinary formica table on the ordinary straight-backed chair, I suddenly saw how extraordinary my family situation was. We had never talked about it. None of us had ever said out loud, “Dad is an alcoholic and a liar.” My siblings and I were fish in a pond, unable to see the water.
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