So I’ve been putting this post off for awhile, thinking I’d get around to it at a time when I was super inspired. Instead, I’m 3 steps into another anxiety attack and I need to focus on something else. This is literally the worst time (mentally) for me to be writing a coherent post, but here goes.
For every horror story I hear, especially on tumblr, about teenagers and young adults dealing with parents, I feel infinitely more blessed that my own are the pillar of my support. I don’t say this as a way to brag, but as a way to put better perspective on my own story dealing with mental illness. I’d like to tell you a bit about that story, and why I’m so thankful for the mother and father I have.
Contrary to her modest self-deprecation, this was an incredibly coherent post by my sister. Before I share a bit of the story from my perspective, I’d like to say a few words about my sister. These originally were going to be at the end of my post, but they belong here at the beginning, because they are more important than all of the rest to follow:
Erin, you are a strong and courageous person who has battled through shit that would make me want to just curl up in a ball and sob. I am proud of the woman you are, and know that the world is a better place because you are here.
Before I begin, I must state I have never been ashamed of my sister for her trichotillomania. If I have ever made her feel like that, I am sorry for that, and want her to know that it was not intentional, or if it was something I said, it was a temporary and incredibly immature method of trying to score points in some petty argument we were having.