In short? It is exhausting being me. Pretending to be normal is draining and requires amazing amounts of energy and Xanax.

I wanted to write about my disorders for people like my husband or mother who don't suffer but have saved people. Mentally ill people don't have a choice in who they are. But those that stand by the mentally ill make an enormous difference. Even when I'm healthy enough to take care of myself I face constant battles, especially with insurance companies.

A friend is someone who knows where all your bodies are buried. Because they're the ones who helped you put them there." And sometimes, if you're really lucky, they help you dig them back up.

If you could hear the insane stuff going on in my head, it would scare the hell out of you. Probably. Or fascinate you. Depends on how easily you're startled, I guess.

...and whenever I had menstral cramps, I could just pretend that Voldemort was close.

A hug is like a strangle you haven't finished yet.

I very much own the fact that I'm a misfit. The Internet makes everyone realize they're screwed up.