Exuberance Is A Gift Of Grace That

I Compare Myself With My Former Self, Not With Others. Not Only That, I Tend To Compare My Current Self With The Best I Have Been, Which Is When I Have Been Midly Manic. When I Am My Present "normal" Self, I Am Far Removed From When I Have Been My Liveliest, Most Productive, Most Intense, Most Outgoing And Effervescent. In Sort, For Myself, I Am A Hard Act To Follow.

If People Can Talk About Having Breast Cancer, Why Can't People Who Have Mental Illness Talk About Mental Illness? Until We're Able To Do That, We're Not Going To Be Treated With The Same Kind Of Respect For Our Diseases As Other People.

I Don't Think Grief Of Grief In A Medical Way At All. I Think That I And Many Of My Colleagues, Are Very Concerned When Grief Becomes Pathological, That There Is No Question That Grief Can Trigger Depression In Vulnerable People And There Is No Question That Depression Can Make Grief Worse.

An Ardent Temperament Makes One Very Vulnerable To Dreamkillers.

Looking At Suicide—the Sheer Numbers, The Pain Leading Up To It, And The Suffering Left Behind—is Harrowing. For Every Moment Of Exuberance In The Science, Or In The Success Of Governments, There Is A Matching And Terrible Reality Of The Deaths Themselves: The Young Deaths, The Violent Deaths, The Unnecessary Deaths