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.

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