Yesterday was Juneteenth, a holiday that I only knew a little bit about... much like a lot of other US history having to do with the maltreatment of African Americans. School did not teach me much about the plight, the abuse, the torture and trauma and evil inflicted on the black population by this country. And not just in the past, but also in the day to day currently. I was pretty ignorant. Although my ignorance is largely not my fault - it’s a result of the systematically
I start every year by doing my version of a Dry January. I cut processed sugar, alcohol, and caffeine out of my diet. It’s a great way to reset my tolerances, take a hard look at my bad habits, and give my body a break. More importantly, however, it’s a way to cut mind-altering substance consumption out of my daily routine.
Although sugar, alcohol, and caffeine are socially acceptable, they are still forms of drugs. They produce chemical reactions in the mind, alter the bod
I want to take a moment today to remind people that mental illnesses are just as real and life-altering as physical ailments. I wrote this poem about a year and a half ago, when I was not doing well. I was also especially struggling with the difference - the separation - between how healthy I looked and how terribly sick I felt.
Today, I'm doing so well! My external appearance matches my internal health. I feel confident. But it's been a long, hard fight to get here. A figh
Do you ever find that you give yourself less credit than you should, or that you remember fewer positive things than you do negative? I do. And it frustrates me to no end.
For instance, I've had a pretty good summer. I did a lot of activities and had outings that, in past summers, haven't happened. I was committed to doing the 'Chicago Summer' this year, and to be honest, I did pretty well. However, this morning, still laying in bed and yet feeling a cold breeze blowing in