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Friend Opinions …

Remember when talking to friends was easy. Sure in our younger years when our issues were mostly social and we spent our days talking about others or ourselves, that’s when life was simple. When gossip was queen. Then we may face, addiction, alcoholism, disability, and mental health issues, and that’s when friends are less likely to be there for you or a hand to hold, when you have to fix yourself and get help. They can cheer you on, support you, speak on your behalf, intervene, talk to friends and family, do what they can to let those who care about you know that they care and want to make sure your okay. That’s price you pay for opening up on Facebook, everyone calls and texts your Mom, “Is Leslie okay?” For some reason when I’m feeling most passionate about what I have to say in my element, it was usually uneventful for anyone else reading, that’s bipolar, in outer space while everyone else is on earth, wondering what you’re talking about, why you’re talking about what you’re talking about, and wondering whether you recognize that what you’re saying is off base with reality or just plain TMI. Have never been too fond of the content police my biggest critics along the way. Then you assimilate and find your happy medium, per platform. We all express ourselves in different ways. I’ve always been someone others would confide in growing up, easy to talk to, and ask advice from, a thoughtful sounding board to my best friends. The type of best friends you can sit around and do nothing with, or be drunk off our faces passing out or dancing in bars with everyone watching us, those were the good times. I don’t think friends ever really grow out of each-other we all just move on from what was normal then and adjust to whats normal for us now working, making new friends, networking, spending time with family, and for some reason time with friends turns into coffee and texts. Whatever happened loved them dearly although we seldom if not at all talk now. That’s growing up. Which is what brought me to blogging, the need to be myself, the social butterfly I was, and deal with ongoing mental health issues which for the most part I feel recovered from but still have to manage on a daily basis or else I get sick with voices again disorganized. This will be a life long battle, but I don’t have to do it alone, and that’s why I’m online and became a writer. Writing had been the primary means for me to move forward, make progress, manage my thoughts about reality, figure out what’s important to me,and watch myself bloom finally at 35 and take a picture I’m proud of. Learn to love yourself, life is short, and you’ll surely want to spend more years loving yourself than suffer trying to be something that you’re not. Good things take time.

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