When I first met depression she allowed me to see only a glimpse of her true self. When I first met depression, she walked with me to the still stream at the opening of her soul, she removed my shoes and encouraged me to dip my toes into her murky waters. Her presence was cold and calm, she wore a dark cloak stitched with shame and laced with sorrow, her greying face barely visible under her cowling hood.

When I first met depression I didn’t really know who she was or what she intended to do. She was clever and calculated, she let me in slowly, spoon by spoon she fed me a gradually increasing dose of her toxic medicine.

Many believe that as soon as you have children, that’s it, you have to give up all the fun things that you enjoyed doing before.

I adore my family, friends and having lots of social time. However, when these little humans come along who want and need you at every grasping moment, it can feel like the days of being social are over.

What people forget is that being away from your children is super important, not only for them to grow and become more independent, but also for your own mental health!

The International OCD Foundation defines Scrupulosity as, “a subtype of obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) involving religious or moral obsessions.” It describes Scrupulous people as “overly concerned that something they thought or did might be a sin or other violationof religious or moral doctrine.” Said people might also “worry about what their thoughts or behavior mean about who they are as a person.”

While I do find it interesting that apparently up to a third of OCD havers (who, according to the National Institute of Mental Health, make up 1.2% of the population) experience Scrupulosity, I wanted to know more. Specifically, I wanted to know what percent of this third were under 13. I wanted to know how many of this third were like me.

As I grew up my emotions evolved, as well as the way I felt about them. Even though I was well acquainted with my multitudes, I started to see that to a degree, they set me apart, and not in a way I liked. I saw how my tears sometimes scared people around me, and how my excitement was at times overwhelming. Simply put, I became afraid of being too much.

However, the reality of being by my standards “too much” became a lot less fun when I got diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder, Anxiety, Autism Spectrum Disorder, and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It was all of a sudden too real. I was no longer “Lanacore” and “Girl, Interruptedesque” - I was mentally ill.