Thank you. I write about lots of stuff. This is the scariest to hit Send on. And it also gives me purpose.

I approve this message.

^^^^^^^^ all those things.

Unfortunately, six months is not a long time to sort this shit out and get it right. And I strongly suggest talk therapy too. My therapist and my psychiatrist work together.  

That’s what I have. Except they’re pink. But still.

That was absolutely the first step. A beautiful first step.

I have a weekly staring contest with my meds, yo. I’ve been caught mid-stare.

I need to write an entire column about dope med bags.

brown butter. yes.

“Hey, I’m here typing.”

Pray The Cray Away. I CANNOT.

This is the very best kind of drink for me. Since I had to leave my beloved DrinkyTown back in 2004. So I can read the ingredients and salivate at the photo.

Ugh. I want to get transparent about this. One day.

1. When did I say tell everyone you know? I actually said the exact opposite.

This is me, seconds before I press Send on these columns.

“So if I don’t think I can be helped, and by trying to seek help I might make my life worse instead, what is even the point of expending what little energy I manage to have over a week?”

please please please don’t feel guilty. Would you feel guilty if you had a broken leg and needed meds? What if you had cancer? Would you feel guilty about getting chemo?

Oh wow. That is amazing. That could be just as beneficial as the beach for me.

diet. exercise. mediation. yoga. prayer. These are super important. SUPER. They are a must. For those in crisis? For those who are suicidal? Therapy and meds. Period. Then a long term treatment plan that includes all of the above. 

your therapist must be the does.not.play. variety. Love It.