What's Wrong With Being Confident

What's Wrong With Being Confident

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WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación mié, abr 12, 2017
Demi Lovato is one of the popular celebrities out there who are also known for advocating for mental health and also for being a role model for those suffering and living with mental illness. Millions are still suffering in silence and we need to continue doing our part with the society that is on the same page to contribute with breaking the stigma and discrimination about mental illness. Demi Lovato inspires millions of her fans to be confident and I've decided to write a book on self confidence, self, love, body/self acceptance, self care, and also inspiring actions of taking risks when our own family members aren't supportive, understanding, respectful, accepting and helpful with our illness. Refusing to accept our condition for the stigma and discrimination shows up well too clearly to us but not to them. This book I've created is here to help inspire others to continue or start speaking up about their illness(s) and taking the right risks with moving forward in having others including our friends and family moving onto our side, gradually, naturally and not in our control or demand. We cannot make someone change the way they view, think, believe and treat things in life any better. We just have to accept this and just mainly focus on ourselves in recovery. Trust the process and give the rest to God and nature that your friends and family will view these situations, epidemic on their own terms. It's not up to you to demand, control, or make them change. It's only up to you to stand up for what you want, need, believe in and focus on working with your recovery. Everything will turn out the way it should for the greater good! Just trust everything is in good hands! Trust God!
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He always assumes I want money. That money can replace my desire for a mother, for a female figure who will guide me through the darkness. All he can provide is money. He assumes that because I use the money, that I'm happy, that I don't spend night hunched over my toilet bowl physically sick to my stomach with the guilt of killing my mother. He assumes that because I have friends, that the smile on my face is genuine. That because I smile and confidently stride out of my room in a bikini, that I love myself and the way I look. He assumes everything about me, because he doesn't know me. I'm his daughter, and with the simple fact, he assumes that by just looking at me he knows my every thought. Does he know of the blood I spill when I have no other method of coping? Does he know of the times I sit and ponder about what it would be like to go through death? Does he know that when he leaves for work, I cry myself to sleep and wish for a mother? Does he know that I could care less about him? I hate him. But he loves me. Does he know, that through all this mess, I just want a mother. Because according to Disney, mother knows best?

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