Aspiring Poet, heartfelt thoughts.I Have Dystonia, bipolar, and an Avid Southern Gospel Music fan

 Living with mental illness or caring for someone who does is a journey that requires resilience, patience, and understanding. Unfortunately, even well-meaning comments can be hurtful or dismissive, especially when they stem from misconceptions. If you're seeking to support someone in this position, here are a few things you should avoid saying—and why. 1. “I understand what you’re going through.” No, you don’t. Unless you have personally experienced the same mental illness or caregiving situation, you cannot truly understand what someone else is enduring. It’s okay to empathize—to acknowledge their pain and show that you care—but claiming understanding can come across as dismissive. Instead, say something like, “I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you, but I’m here to listen and support you.” 2. “Just think positive.” Mental illness is not a mindset issue; it is a medical condition. Suggesting that someone can overcome their struggles through sheer willpower minimizes the se...

 The turn of the calendar brings with it a bittersweet mixture of reflection and hope. Last year’s burdens felt like an unrelenting storm, a tempest that tested not just my endurance but also my faith. Each day seemed longer than the one before, and each night was filled with whispered prayers—pleas for relief, peace, and understanding. Sometimes, those prayers felt like they disappeared into the void. Yet, they were the only thread that kept me tethered to hope. I’ve recently found solace in the simplicity of haikus. Their compact elegance has a way of expressing the inexpressible, of condensing emotions too large for prose into three short lines. As I reflect on the past year and look ahead, this haiku poured out of me: Through the tears of a rough year!  A year of trials, Heavy storms and quiet grief, Each day stretched so thin. Night brought restless prayers to God, Seeking mercy, peace, and strength. Now a new year dawns, Shadows lift with fragile hope. Still, I bow and p...

 As the clock struck midnight on New Year’s Eve, I didn’t feel the usual sense of hope or renewal that many associate with the start of a new year. Instead, I found myself reflecting on the year behind me—a year filled with challenges that have left me feeling like I am crawling into this new chapter with one hand and one leg missing. Last year was, without a doubt, one of the most difficult I’ve faced. It seemed like every step forward was met with two steps back. Moving to the family farm to care for Harvey, my father-in-law with dementia, was a decision rooted in love and necessity. It was a move that marked the end of one chapter and the beginning of another, one filled with trials I hadn’t anticipated. Coupled with being laid off from my job, the weight of responsibility and uncertainty felt like an anchor pulling me deeper into uncharted waters. Physically, mentally, and emotionally, I was stretched to my limits. My own battles with manic depression, schizophrenia, bipolar di...