A professor once said

“This class is not for the light-hearted. Neither is this program, and to deal with the insane amount of shit you are going to see and have to deal with; you’ll need to take care of yours first. Take care of your shit and figure it out. It is the only way you are going to be able to be successful in this industry.”

This really motivated me because I had shit that I was absolutely not dealing with and had no plans to start. But this resonated in me, felt like I was meant to hear it. My shit needed to be taken care of and dealt with. I took the sign as an invitation to turn my research paper into a challenge for myself. Could I write a research paper researching what I had to come to terms with and really understand? Research for what I felt I had no control over and that gripped and strangled me tighter and tighter each and every day?

I could and I did.

“Bipolar Disorder and Death Anxiety”, a research paper, by me.

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