As my anxiety grew worse, I began to self-destruct like a bomb with an overeager timer set for detonation. Each day was spent with the same routine of tears before breakfast followed by tears with sprinkles of anger for lunch and an emotional meltdown (panic attack) with a side dish of tears for dinner.
Content warning: depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation, mental illness This is in response to the Liahona Article “New Hope for Deeper Healing from Depression and Anxiety” by Jacob Hess, PhD Since my teen years I...
“I’m a good guy.” I’ve been thinking about this oft-repeated claim. It implies that good is a constant state, rather like one’s height (after reaching adulthood) – I’m a tall guy. I’m a short guy. What if we...
The collective grief of my country has surged for the second time in my adult life. The first time, I was a young adult, in college on September 11, 2001 when terrorists commandeered planes...
This post is part of The Exponent’s #EqualAccess Series. Disabled voices rarely get a chance to speak for themselves, but this blog series seeks to eliminate the stigma that disabled people are less than,...
This post is part of The Exponent’s #EqualAccess Series. Disabled voices rarely get a chance to speak for themselves, but this blog series seeks to eliminate the stigma that disabled people are less than,...
book review / Relationships / women
by Abby Hansen · Published April 15, 2019 · Last modified April 12, 2019
Around the year 2002, my husband and I attended Sacrament Meeting together in our BYU single’s ward. The visiting speaker that day was from the high council, and he spoke extensively about overcoming depression...
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