The redfield dating
I used to be just another regular person, I thought.
Just a few months ago I had been an ordinary person living an ordinary life, indistinguishable from any other observant high-school girl busily involved in schoolwork and a lively social life.
That way nobody would notice the Band-Aid I had placed on my wrist. My strong desire to be "just another high-school girl" and not considered "crazy" was intensified by my mortification toward the end of the previous year, when I had my first encounter with a psychiatric ward.
Mental disorders manifest themselves through the particular characteristics of the culture in which the person has developed.
My heart caught in my throat, and a sharp, profound sadness struck at the very core of me, engulfing me.
I wanted to do every mitzvah and keep every detail of Jewish law in the most exacting way.
I wanted God to be pleased with me and thought the way to accomplish this was to make my observance of each mitzvah increasingly more complicated and difficult.
I pretended to be interested and did a pretty good job of not standing out.
I had made sure to button my Oxford uniform sleeves below the wrist and took care not to let the sleeves pull up. I could go on being just another high-school girl among so many others.