Personal Reflection

20 Things I Learned In 20 Years

I’ve learned a lot of lessons in twenty years.

  1.   People suck.
  2.   Forgiving is hard.
  3.   Give before you get.
  4.   I’m not alone.
  5.   Comparing is unfair.
  6.   Wounds heal.
  7.   Timing counts.
  8.   Regret nothing.
  9.   Life goes on.
  10.   Do not envy.
  11.   Things happen for a reason.
  12.   People come and go.
  13.   Friends are important.
  14.   Mental health matters.
  15.   Appreciate art.
  16.   Be kind to strangers.
  17.   Do what makes me happy.
  18.   How to say no.
  19.   Stay true to who I am.
  20.   Love myself.
Personal Reflection

#BellLetsTalk

Let’s talk. And listen.

Let’s share. Let’s speak.

Let’s blog. Let’s write.

Let’s read. Let’s remember.

Let’s start a conversation today, continue it tomorrow, and keep one going together.

Personal Reflection

Blogging About Bell Let’s Talk

I wrote a post on my other blog about Bell Let’s Talk. You can find it here.

Below is a short snippet:

I like the idea behind Bell Let’s Talk and everything that the day stands for. I completely support ending the stigma surrounding mental health. And I have to commend Bell for all they’ve done, all they are currently doing, and all the company will do in the future.

What I don’t like is that it’s easy to forget about mental health every other day of the year, especially if you aren’t directly affected by it. It’s easy to perpetuate the stereotypes, to prolong the stigma.

That’s because it’s not as easy to be aware, to be understanding, and to be helpful.

I still have more to say.

I hope conversations start and continue because of today. But regardless of whether or not it’s Bell Let’s Talk, regardless of what’s happening in the world, I want conversations to start and continue every day.

So please start the conversation. And don’t let it stop.

Creative Writing

Taylor

He hated it here. Taylor despised hospitals more than he despised jails, which said a lot. At least nobody tried to fix broken people in jails.

The beeps from the machines irritated him. His headaches, which were more like migraines, worsened the longer he stayed. In spite of this, he continued to bang his head against the wall, willing for a miracle to happen. He wondered how any patients could sleep with the constant background noise. Then again, most of them were unconscious.

Taylor rubbed his palm against his beard. It was starting to grow out. She told him once that he looked older with facial hair, but he grew it out for another reason.

She. Lauren.

The only reason Taylor could ignore his burning dislike for doctors thinking they were God and step foot in a stupid hospital of all places. Healing people was a lot harder than anyone realized. He would know.

ICU. Intensive care unit.

A place he never thought he would be, much less have to stay. For the millionth time that year, he hated being conscious and aware of everything.

Hospitals smelled too clean for his liking. Taylor realized how ironic it was.

This place was full of germs. The nurse attending to Lauren pointed out a hand-sanitizer dispenser on the wall as he came in. For some reason, the dispenser malfunctioned when he used it. The machine dispensed too much so he had no choice but to rub alcohol all over his hands and forearms. In doing so, he rolled up his long sleeves. The antiseptic gazed the scar on his arm, another reminder of the secret he wished he didn’t have to hide.

Now he could add another secret to his list.

***

“I wish you would stop, Tay.” It was her nickname for him.

“Lauren, it’s the only way I can cope.”

“Have you ever thought about how much it hurts me to see you hurting?” she cried. “Please stop.”

He snorted. “That’s why I don’t do it in front of you.”

Lauren knew about the shard of glass. She reached for it the same time he did. It brushed his arm before stabbing her just below the chest.

***

Taylor wished he could swap places with Lauren. Even with the tubes in her nose, she was still beautiful to him. He brushed her hair with his hand and leaned down to kiss her on the forehead.

“I’m sorry.”

He knew what she wanted more than anything. Lauren couldn’t care less whether she survived. She just wanted him to stop.