Billo Pad

@billopad
Community Voices
Community Voices
Community Voices
Community Voices

I know my wife has relapsed into bulimia, she doesn’t know I know… what do I do?

I became suspicious that my wife was purging & now I know she has, because I have heard her many times recently when she didn’t know I was nearby - she thought I was putting kids to bed and I went to get them a glass of water and heard through the (unusually) locked door - plus she’s left the toilet seat up a couple of times (not something girls are usually guilty of)… 😔

Meanwhile she’s boasting about her weight loss and how she’s really slimmed down and I don’t know how to or if I should confront her…

Any suggestions please?

#eatingdisorderhelp

Community Voices

the next time

<p>the next time</p>
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Community Voices

Not knowing… 😔 #Cancer

So I went for a CT scan that I assumed was for having had broken ribs recently… turns out it was to check the growth pulmonary nodules that showed up in a previous scan 3 months ago when I was in hospital and nobody told me about…

So I might have lung cancer, and I know, it’s only a MIGHT, but I’m not feeling very mighty right now… I tick every box of unhealthy and somehow, knowing my luck…

My bucket full of regrets are resurfacing and emotionally I feel (to use the medical term) a bit shit…

I spent all Friday calling different hospital wards trying to get feedback, but all I got were unanswered phones or answering machines… I don’t know what, where or when I’ll find out anything more…

And now I’m in a funk…

2 people are talking about this
Dana Kellison

What I Wished for as a Child With ADHD

When I was a kid, I struggled horribly with math. I struggled with many things. Still, math was the one subject that no matter what I did, I couldn’t figure out. It wasn’t because I was “lazy.” I had ADHD as a child in the 80s, and I remember well how it felt. It felt like chaos and noise. It was hard, and it made my head hurt. Ask me to pay attention and get something I didn’t understand anyway with other kids whispering behind me, Johnny shuffling his feet, papers being moved, and a teacher talking? The struggle is very real, I assure you. I had a teacher in elementary school who we’ll call Mrs. M., but I promise you, I remember her name. Mrs. M. didn’t care for the fact that I couldn’t complete my work. She made sure to chastise me in class, in front of other students, when I didn’t finish my work. One time, when I didn’t finish my assignment, she declared to me in front of the class, “E is for excuses, and that’s all you’ll ever get.” — we got the letter E instead of the grade F in our school. Don’t worry, readers. My mother found out from a parent of another child in my classroom. From that point, the school district took pretty swift action. Why am I telling you all this? Two reasons: First, I never forgot her. I remember her name, what she looked like, and how she made me feel. And please, understand, any adult or person could have said this. She is not a reflection on educators as a group — I have met many wonderful ones. The second thing and what I think is most important is what I discovered as I got older. I struggled throughout my public school career. There was depression, anxiety, and some remedial classes thrown in for good measure with a dash of bullying. When I got out of school, I pushed forward, taking the advice of others on what I should do, and it wasn’t always good advice. It wasn’t until I was in my early 30s, once my brain had fully maturated and caught up, that I figured something out. I wasn’t as bad at this math and whole school thing as I thought I might be. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no mathematician. I am, however, someone who can perform math much better than I realized. Well enough that I ended up being a Pharmacy Technician, which requires having to do in essence word problems. Also, lots of counting and converting units of measurement. Maybe your child is “fighting you” every day to do their homework. I get that can be frustrating and exhausting. I deal with this personally as a parent. Or maybe they are just not “doing the work” — that’s what I did as a child. As a child, it was so much easier for me to avoid than it was to fight. As a person with ADHD, and as a child who lived with ADHD, I want you to know that I wish more people had asked me why instead of assuming. When I asked for help, I wish more adults had sat down with me and took the time to listen and give me that help. I wish people had met me where I was and expanded on that. I wish people had told me I could do it. There is a reason. There is always a reason. For a good chunk of my younger life, I thought I was not very smart and there were things I just couldn’t do. Imagine what would have happened if more people had just listened when I said it was too hard or I couldn’t do it and just asked or thought, “why?” Maybe there’s more to this than what others might see on the surface as “bad behavior.” All I ask of others is to remember what I now know looking back: I could do difficult things with some help, and so can other neurodivergent people. We can do difficult things.

Alaura Filbin

Why I Love My Shirt From The Mighty

As a frequent contributor for The Mighty, I requested a Mighty t-shirt and was ecstatic once it came in the mail. Since then, I have worn the shirt quite often, partially because it’s comfortable and made of soft fabric, but also because the shirt has gained its own meaning for me. The shirt is bright red, just like the logo for the website, which makes it easy to spot in the closet, in the laundry or in a crowd. As some people may know, the color red can be symbolic of strength, power, determination, passion and sometimes even courage. At least to me, the color red is quite appropriate for The Mighty’s contributors and readers. Are we not strong and powerful for telling the world we matter and that our experiences are valid? Are we not determined to show the world that our illnesses, disabilities and diagnoses are not something to be ashamed of? Are we not passionate about showing our solidarity with others who have similar experiences? Are we not courageous for telling the world “I have XYZ” even in the face of misunderstanding and stigma? Another reason I love wearing this shirt is because it makes me feel like I’m publicly embracing my illnesses — I have depression, anxiety, dermatillomania and migraines — but at the same time, it gives me comfort to know that the shirt is subtle enough where people won’t confront me about what illnesses I have. I am not ashamed to have my illnesses, but I enjoy having agency over what I reveal, when I reveal it, and to whom. Also, as someone who was unable to stay home on the Day Without a Woman, I was able to wear my bright red shirt in solidarity with women all across the globe while simultaneously showing my solidarity with people in the Mighty community. It’s particularly empowering to know I can take part in a global protest just by wearing this shirt, particularly in the current political climate, where many of us are terrified about the future of our well-being. Finally, I love seeing the looks on people’s faces when they recognize the shirt, whether they’re also contributors or readers. I have friends who contribute and I have come across strangers whose eyes have lit up when they read “The Mighty.” It’s a great feeling either way. I’m proud to be a part of The Mighty. I’m proud to face my illnesses. I’m proud to be able be a voice with others who deal with the same things as I do. I’m proud to wear my shirt. We want to hear your story. Become a Mighty contributor here .

Community Voices

I’m new here!

Hi, my name is dollydaydream. I’m new to the Mighty and am excited to connect! #MightyTogether I really love to chat to others who are struggling. it's health issues that cause my depression. I just want to have a lovely friend ,boyfriend, social life.as I'm always there for everyone else.but noone is there for me.i care to much about others but when I need help.ive noone to talk to or turn to.thanks for listening

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Alaura Filbin

Why I Love My Shirt From The Mighty

As a frequent contributor for The Mighty, I requested a Mighty t-shirt and was ecstatic once it came in the mail. Since then, I have worn the shirt quite often, partially because it’s comfortable and made of soft fabric, but also because the shirt has gained its own meaning for me. The shirt is bright red, just like the logo for the website, which makes it easy to spot in the closet, in the laundry or in a crowd. As some people may know, the color red can be symbolic of strength, power, determination, passion and sometimes even courage. At least to me, the color red is quite appropriate for The Mighty’s contributors and readers. Are we not strong and powerful for telling the world we matter and that our experiences are valid? Are we not determined to show the world that our illnesses, disabilities and diagnoses are not something to be ashamed of? Are we not passionate about showing our solidarity with others who have similar experiences? Are we not courageous for telling the world “I have XYZ” even in the face of misunderstanding and stigma? Another reason I love wearing this shirt is because it makes me feel like I’m publicly embracing my illnesses — I have depression, anxiety, dermatillomania and migraines — but at the same time, it gives me comfort to know that the shirt is subtle enough where people won’t confront me about what illnesses I have. I am not ashamed to have my illnesses, but I enjoy having agency over what I reveal, when I reveal it, and to whom. Also, as someone who was unable to stay home on the Day Without a Woman, I was able to wear my bright red shirt in solidarity with women all across the globe while simultaneously showing my solidarity with people in the Mighty community. It’s particularly empowering to know I can take part in a global protest just by wearing this shirt, particularly in the current political climate, where many of us are terrified about the future of our well-being. Finally, I love seeing the looks on people’s faces when they recognize the shirt, whether they’re also contributors or readers. I have friends who contribute and I have come across strangers whose eyes have lit up when they read “The Mighty.” It’s a great feeling either way. I’m proud to be a part of The Mighty. I’m proud to face my illnesses. I’m proud to be able be a voice with others who deal with the same things as I do. I’m proud to wear my shirt. We want to hear your story. Become a Mighty contributor here .