disorder

This is not how medicine should work. This is not how advocacy should work.
It is often inaccurately characterized as “chewing rage,” as “sound rage” and even as an “eating disorder.” Misophonia is not any of these things!
It's more than “hatred of sound,” “chewing rage,” or “sound rage."
What matters is that the individual himself accept the time and energy needed to metabolize and integrate the psychic change in order to continue with life in the present.
For six months, I had been suffering from a mood disorder characterized by high anxiety, sudden and extreme fatigue, and panic attacks. I really wanted to share much earlier. It would have felt great to be genuinely authentic with people in my life, and not hide who I am.
Rendez-Vous with French Cinema, a popular film series at Lincoln Center, was particularly robust this year. Following upon
In a way, these half-written blogs and unfinished reflections sum up the past six months pretty well: a collection of emotions and experiences with few clear ends or answers, with dangling ellipses and uncertain next chapters.
It was the epoch of belief; it was the epoch of incredulity. the pressure-   It was the best of times; it was the worst of
Today is day 3, and we're doing alright. Yesterday we had 14 children round to play all morning, and another 3 in the afternoon - filling our home with those truly amusing humans Hannah loves and creating a chaotic normality indeed!
Instead of an assessment (which implies judgment) and advice (which implies expertise), what someone who's mentally distressed, in any context, needs first, mentally and emotionally, is some acknowledgment and support.
I recently sat down with Briana for an in-depth interview, a plan we masterfully crafted through Twitter. We Skyped, as Briana was still in the hospital with a weak immune system--one week prior, on March 17th, she had had her second bone marrow transplant.
I have enough close friends with children whose milestones have, like Hannah's, not been reached, to know that I am not the only one who finds birthdays hard.
Five weeks after Hannah's diagnosis (five years ago today, hence the reflective post), I had six weeks off work, less because of the emotional trauma we'd been through and more because of the magnitude of the lists that needed to be dealt with.
can adapt my expectations about my life so that the disappointment and shock of landing in Holland instead of Italy is turned into celebration. I can do that.
For the past year, I have worked, mostly on a voluntary basis, with CABDICO, a local Cambodian non-profit organization working with people with disabilities.