I’ve always been a perfectionist. Some of my perfectionistic qualities when I was younger were probably indicators of some mild obsessive-compulsive tendencies. I’ve gotten better, but my desire for perfection is still alive and well. I remember doing an assignment in first grade, and when we graded our own work, I got one wrong. I …
The seven letter S word
I’ve struggled with thoughts of suicide since I was thirteen or fourteen, five or six years before finding out I was bipolar. I distinctly remember being home alone in middle school and feeling reckless and despondent—a terrible combination. I know I’m in trouble when I feel those things simultaneously. Our game room has a bannister …
Between Two Poles 