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Do you or someone you know struggle with endometriosis?

I've been struggling with Endometriosis since I am 13 years old. Please share your story if you can relate!

#Endometriosis #Endo #EndometriosisAwarenessMonth #mentalandphysicalhealth #MentalHealth #podcastepisode #Sharingmystory

89. Endometriosis Awareness by The Wellness Project with Des

Welcome to my podcast, The Wellness Project with Des. On today’s episode, I talk about my own personal struggles with Endometriosis in hopes of spreading awareness.  Join my mailing list and get your free printable 7-day Gratitude Journal: Become a part of my facebook community: If you liked this episode or have enjoyed any of my past episodes, please leave me a review on iTunes! I would really, really appreciate it! And make sure you share this episode and tag me on social media @the.wellness.project.with.des
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Sharing my Mood Diary 📔 #RapidCyclingBipolarDisorder

I’m currently writing on my blog, my entries in to my mood diary from each month of last year, with the hope that it might be of interest to somebody somewhere or even, possibly, seen by a health professional, be it a Doctor or Psychiatrist, and it is simply acknowledged to give them an insight.

I’m aware that on here we are advised not to post anything that could possibly incite a negative reaction. My account is no-holds barred and to the point, so I wouldn’t post it on here as it would get taken down.

I’m just wondering if anyone has any thoughts about it? Would it be positive for others to read? Is there any platform that looks at this sort of thing that you could recommend for me to submit it to?



#BipolarAwareness #Sharingmystory #mooddiary #Mentalillnessfeelslike


Voices in my head

Remembering this while trying to sleep right now:

I’m dissociated, my normal four steps back and three above and two over my left shoulder from myself. I’m sitting in our bed unable to speak and writing in the notebook ever present on my nightstand. I’m hyper aware of everything going on in the room. Harry Potter is on the TV, the brown fuzzy blanket is currently on top of the millions of blankets we own and Gorbachev (my grey cat) is lying at the foot of the bed by my right foot. We’re in Phillipsburg, NJ in the autumn and we both still smoke.

I write on a piece of paper “I hear voices” and hand it over to you mute and unable to articulate what I even mean by that. I’m terribly aware of how overdramatic it all seems and I put both hand into the black and grey fleece I’m wearing. You go on to explain how you had a friend John who was schizophrenic who heard voices and began telling me stories of him and I got lost in those and the tension passed.

The problem is not that it is those types of voices. It was voices of those involved in the memory I was having at that time that I could articulate as having a flashback of because I didn’t know that I was experiencing a flashback. It is my own intuition, my own voice that I hear that would act as a narrator when the scenes changed but when the angry outbursts or lies or manipulation or excuse for abuse sentences were spoken in others voices...that’s what all I was trying to tell you about. Not that I was schizophrenic.
#Dissociation #AbuseSurvivors #Memories #Sharingmystory