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I write about various topics and occasionally share wisdom I’ve earned through suffering.
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I met my partner a little over two years ago, and he changed my life.

It was love at first conversation, and John and I worked together to quickly build new and reformed lives. He’d just been through a divorce, and I’d just gone through some sort of catastrophic quarter-life crisis. We were each exactly who the other person needed to grow strong again, and since we met, we’ve been carrying on lavish lives of constant doting, adoration, and honeymooning.

I knew when I met him that I never wanted to be codependent with anyone ever again. Regardless, love feels…

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Quite recently, I had my heart broken. It wasn’t like that, though — not a romance gone wrong or anything like that. Woe certainly isn’t me and my partner and I are stronger than ever. I do not think often about if people can really die from a broken heart because of unrequited love or a dismemberment of my union; I think of it because I live in a sack of meat that keeps committing actions dead set on disappointing itself.

I broke my own heart.

It all started when I became a happy person — or, I should say…

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At 12, I became convinced that there was no other movie like Midnight in Paris. It brought my favorite Jazz Age writers to life, brought back La Belle Époque, and reaffirmed my cheesy fondness for tourism. Once it became an instant favorite, I knew I had to share it with my favorite person to watch movies with: my mother.

We only got through a few seconds of title cards before my mother exclaimed, “Eww, no. Woody Allen? I am not watching this,” and then asked, “Why are you watching Woody Allen movies?”

I wasn’t exactly a sophisticated movie viewer. I’d…

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Imagine, for a moment, if you stopped giving a fuck.

Doesn’t that feel good? Maybe you feel a little bit guilty, but you’ve also got to admit it was lovely to relax.

It’s no secret that caring deeply is a great tool of highly successful, kind, important people. Caring drives a lot of greatness and can inspire anyone to make themselves and the world better. The only problem is that too often, we as people mistake caring for taking things personally. Caring also has the power to make mankind worse off.

Taking things personally is selfish to its core

If we consider what may have pushed a person…

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I was sitting in my living room with my best friend the other night when she began to grow angry. In recollecting one of her favorite TV shows, The Office, she blurted out that she “felt guilty” for watching it because it had been the go-to show for her and her ex-betrothed. They separated a long time ago, and she recently celebrated her one-year anniversary with her new boyfriend. From this memory, our conversation about comedy TV turned into a mutual pondering of how bad we each should or shouldn’t feel about enjoying things we used to enjoy with exes.

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Any writer can tell you that their work comes with its difficulties, whether they choose to pen fiction, finance, self-help, or just about anything else. Writing itself is challenging, and trying to build an audience is even harder. Even if writing is one’s “calling”, it doesn’t always make it easy.

With the occasional exception, I typically write self-help-driven personal essays. I follow a scheduled format of opening my articles with a thesis and then contributing to that statement with a body of personal experiences that I believe both provide myself credibility and allow the reader to know that they aren’t…

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In the beginning, I was playing outside in a field on a bed of grass. There were children everywhere and a few other teachers, and I was fidgeting on the grass trying to close all of the goody bags that we’d made for the kids. Maybe it was field day or something. The sky was such an opulent blue and the clouds were wispy but still full enough to envision shapes when you looked up at them. No one was wearing masks, either, so I assume that the pandemic was over. …

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2017 was a really bad year for me. I ringed in the New Year in a psychiatric facility, and though my time there was brief, it led to a circus that included a new psychiatrist and a whole bunch of new medication. Along with that circus came a bunch of diagnoses I hadn’t ever heard of before, which included:

  • Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)
  • Bipolar Disorder
  • Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD)
  • Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

For years, I was treated with Lithium, Seroquel, Zyprexa, Xanax, Ativan, Klonopin, Lamictal, Abilify, Doxapine, Trazodone, Latuda, and others. At any given time, I was on four…

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It doesn’t feel very impressive when I open Medium every morning and see roughly 40 followers and 1,000–1,600 views per month. In fact, when I compare myself to the posters in Medium hubs on Facebook, I feel abysmally small. As my peers share massive earnings statements and stats with 10 times the amount of views on one article compared to what I have for a whole month, I wonder what I’m doing wrong.

Then, I stop and think about how my growth here has been enormous. $20 over three months doesn’t sound like much, but wait until you hear this:

H. M. Johnson

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