by Sharon Turnoy
It never occurred to me that depression might lie to me.
I thought it was honest to a fault — not sugar-coating the most cynical points of view, but rather rubbing my nose in the unadulterated truth until I was forced out of denial to face reality: My life sucked.
My beliefs about depression changed a few years ago. A therapist listened to me as I engaged in some negative self-talk that was, I thought, quite accurate, albeit extremely critical. I sounded hopeless, lacking in self-worth, and not able to foresee a happy future. …
Well-said. I've published a number of articles about Israel, growing up Jewish in California, and anti-Semitism. My kids are biracial, and the NAACP supports divestment of all investments in Israel. It puts my grown children in an untenable position.
Anti-Semitism really flared up starting with Trump's campaign and has continued. What happened to the shouts of "Never Again!"?
Brilliant. Could not be more accurate. Right on point.
As evaluated by an empath who has been in long-term relationships with three narcissists, not counting the primary one who trained me to accept it--my father.
I love the way you juxtapose your "real life" image with Terry the Superhero. What a terrific idea! I wish I'd thought of it.
But I'm afraid you will have to wait until Netflix finishes making the movie about me first.
I accept your bet of angina, fibromyalgia, osteoarthritis, bursitis, CFS/ME, hypothyroidism, failing kidneys, sleep apnea, GERD, sciatica, bilateral S1 and SI issues, rotator cuffs, and God only knows what else,
and I raise you hypertension (high blood pressure), pre-diabetes, hypothyroidism (my TSH has been up to the high 20's; what's yours?), tendenitis, spondiolysthesis, spinal foraminal narrowing, bulging and…
Thank you for posting this. Although I was suicidal off and on until I discovered SSRI anti-depressants, I was not a cutter, so I was never drawn to slashing my wrists as a way out. I got to the edge of it once--and it HURT! Ouch. Painful. I was a coward and used pills from then on.
But I've always wondered what enabled some people to rise above the physical pain and go through with it--either cutting with control or suicide by razor. …
Stories of the US exploiting others are not unusual; those told with such eloquence are. Thank you for an unusually eloquent and moving history lesson.
In love with someone who didn’t deserve me, I felt stuck. I was long past knowing I should get out, but how could I? I still loved him.
It finally occurred to me that I could manufacture an ending so awful that the two of us would never have the stomach to speak to each other again. After that, like it or not, I’d be free.
But did I have the stomach to do that?
I hoped I’d end up too furious, too embarrassed, or, preferably, too finished with him to pick the relationship back up (as I have always…
By Sharon Turnoy
Bill Robinson, aka “Mr. Bojangles,” got an unfair and untrue bad rep that casts a cloud over his name to this day. It’s long past time to clear his name and reputation and give him credit for the “insurmountable obstacles” he overcame for all Black performers who followed him.
Born in 1878 and orphaned at an early age, Robinson made a smart decision to focus on his remarkable gift of dance as his meal ticket. He entered the field through the only channel open to him. …
Someone who knows me well dared me to come out to the world and reveal what a closet grammar geek I am. Usually, I’m careful to ensure that my interest in the English language passes as “normal.” I taught English and ghostwrote for business executives. Doesn’t sound too terribly nerdy, does it? Few people I worked for knew that when it came to grammar, I was the original grammar geek.
However, one CFO I worked with recognized my inner geek almost immediately. He was as much a nerd about numbers as I was about grammar, and he could sniff out…
My first experience of what I now know was depression occurred at the ripe old age of three years old. My grandparents were visiting, and my older brothers were joking with them. I didn’t belong anywhere. I remember the scene as if it happened yesterday. I felt ostracized, disregarded, unloved, and worthless.
I backed slowly and silently out of the living room, wondering if anyone would notice. Reaching my bedroom undiscovered, I lay down on my bed with my door shut. There, I fantasized about being dead and watching my family attend my funeral.
Depression is one of the…