Getting Lost

We get lost. We get caught up in all of the dull, mundane details of our day-to-day lives. We get caught up in our “adult responsibilities” like: work, bills, health, the expectations and demands of other people, and so many other stressors that it is impossible to list them all here. We get lost, and we forget to look around us. We forget to notice the beauty that surrounds us every single moment of our lives. We get tied down by negativity and stress, and we stop making it a point to appreciate the small moments that make our lives amazing. This epidemic is worse for people who suffer from mental illnesses; however, everyone experiences this pull to the negative at some point in their lives. You will get lost, but don’t worry, I’ll tell you a secret – WE ALL DO! The key isn’t to never get lost. The key is not to let yourself stay lost. Don’t let yourself believe the lie that you will be lost forever. You won’t. You’ll find your way back. We all do, and when you find your way back don’t forget to appreciate all of the tiny, amazing things that make life fun, happy, and worth living. Because life is definitely worth living. Life can absolutely be fun. You can most assuredly be happy.

I’ve gotten lost again. I’ve been lost for a month or two this time, but in one of my down moments I came across this little gem while distracting myself from my inner pain with the internet. It was in a “Buzzfeed” type list about internet grammar errors.

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Whoever this person was apparently forgot that the word “sunrise” is more commonly used to describe a “morning sunset,” but, to be honest, I much prefer the simple beauty of the latter phrase. I’m never calling it a sunrise again. Every time I see the sun come up, and I see its orange glow seeping like spilled ink through the sky and painting a multitude of color patterns across the horizon, I will think to myself, “What a gorgeous morning sunset.” I will remember to notice the small things; to appreciate the minute details that make life amazing; and to hold on to these details when I get lost. Remember, you are “rainbow butterfly unicorn kitten” of majestic awesomeness, and no matter how lost you are that rainbow kitten of awesomeness inside you matters more than anything else in the world!


Hold on to the small moments; remember you won’t always be lost; and never forget the “rainbow butterfly unicorn kitten” that is inside of you ready to jump out and blind people with its sparkly, fantabulous kickassness. (Spell check is trying to tell me that “kickassness” is not a real word, but you know what? It’s such an amazing word that it defies the rules of the English language while it throws its middle finger in the air to let all the haters know it doesn’t care what they think.)


Stay sparkly awesome bitches!


Finding ME Again

I’ve struggled with anxiety and depression for most of my life, but never as much as I have the past three to four years. They’ve been pretty rough years. I could not have told you why my issues got so much worse. It seemed as if I just woke up one day, and I was broken somewhere inside. I couldn’t fix the broken, because I couldn’t find it. If you had asked me what was broken, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you; I just knew something was not right with me. The other day while having a heart-to-heart with a close friend I finally discovered the underlying problem: I LOST MYSELF. I had lost myself. The very core of who I am. I was just floating listlessly through life; unhappy with the person I had become, but unable to figure out how I had become this way.

Today, I discoveredsomething. I discovered ME again. There was no shooting-star magical moment; although, it does feel super magical to me. To me, it seems like the most magical occurrence in my recent life. I was just driving home from the gym with my music on the radio and my thoughts running around my head unsupervised – I wasn’t paying any attention to my thoughts at all actually. Then, suddenly she was just there. That me that has been missing. This essential core of who I am deep down that I had somehow lost without even realizing it. And it felt MAGICAL. I thought to myself: there you are you BEAUTIFUL BITCH, and just where have you been hiding? The strangest thing is that it didn’t feel strange or unexpected. It just felt right. It still feels new. I don’t know why or how I lost that part of myself. I do not know where it has been hiding all this time, or even what this piece of me has been doing with itself. All I know is that she is back. And it feels AMAZING. To finally feel like I’m just ME, and like just being me is the most perfect thing in the world. I can be happy with me – with that beautiful, confident part of my soul that says to the world: Here I am, take me or leave me, but I won’t apologize for it. And I know without a doubt that I will fight like hell to keep that part of myself here always. I will tie her down. I will hold her hostage. I will pamper here with quiet nights of reading classics, bubble baths with wine, good music, chocolate, and whatever else it takes to keep her happy and content and here in this place in my heart where she belongs.

And if you have ever dealt with the types of issues I have dealt with, or felt the feelings that I have felt these past few years, then I hope with all my heart and soul (and every single bit of this amazing piece of me that was missing until so recently) that you find your YOU. Until you do find that magical piece of  you that is missing, I hope that you are surrounded with amazing friends like the ones that I am lucky enough to have. Friends that never cease to remind you of who you are when you can’t seem to remember. Friends who see the beauty in you when you cannot see the beauty in anything. Friends who REFUSE to give up on you, because y’all, those friends: they are the stepping stones to finding your way back to yourself.

Bucket Lists: Am I Doing this Right?

Alright y’all, so last night I couldn’t sleep. As usual when I can’t sleep, sometime around 2 a.m., I started contemplating the deep things: like the meaning of existence, the pursuit of happiness, and just life in general. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m doing my life wrong. There are a lot of experiences I am missing out on while I’m shut up in my room binge watching Netflix or binge reading a good book series. To try to remedy this I decided to make a “Bucket List.” Only, after deciding this, I realized that I don’t actually own a bucket. So the first item on my bucket list will have to be to buy a bucket. Here’s what I have come up with so far.


I think maybe I’m doing buckets wrong…and  lists…and numbers…and life. I really can’t be trusted to make adult decisions y’all.

Tape and Glue and String

Shattered. Broken. Falling to pieces inside. I’m trying to hold myself together with tape and glue and little bits of string. I think if I wrap my arms around myself and hug myself tightly enough I can hold it all together. But no amount of patch work can fix me. Broken beyond repair. The cognitive behavioral techniques aren’t working right now. The anti-depressants, the mood enhancers: they can’t fix me tonight. Some days those things are enough. Some days, with the help of the tools in my arsenal, I can fight the good fight. I can feel happy and sane. Other days – nothing is strong enough. This war that I call a life is exhausting. Every day is a battle to see who will win: me, or the negative thoughts inside my brain that are telling me there isn’t anything worth fighting for. Oh sure, I have a family and friends who love me. I have two beautiful dogs who depend on me, but some days those things can’t break through the pain. When I’m sitting there, holding myself together, quite literally, I can’t feel any of those good things. It’s like they can’t reach through the brokenness to heal my shattered heart. It’s an emotional pain so real that it becomes physical. My heart hurts. My heart hurts to its deepest core. And nothing I can say or do or think is strong enough to ease the pain or break me out of that dark place. A therapist I had in college once asked me what my feelings would look like if they were a physical manifestation. I described it as a black ball inside me. It starts off small, but it feeds off my pain. The more I hurt the more it grows, and the bigger it grows the more I hurt. It is a never-ending cycle of darkness and pain. And the black ball wants nothing more than to consume my entire being. In those moments, even just the simple act of breathing is painful. And all I want is for it to end. It seems like it never will. But there is an end to every storm. Even the storm of my emotions. Depression lies. Depression tells me that there is nothing good in this world and everything is pain. Depression tells me no one cares about me. Depression tells me there isn’t anything worth fighting for. And anxiety? Anxiety tells me of course no one cares about me; why would they? What is there to care about? I’m not good enough for anything or anybody. Anxiety says only bad things will come out of anything I try to do. Anxiety says I’m broken and I’ll never fit in with other people. They double team me like that – depression and anxiety – filling me with every bleak thought and painful emotion that a person can possibly stand. Depression is a lying douche noodle, and anxiety is the biggest bitch I know. And some days I wish they were real, physical forms. Then I would have something to punch. Something physical to fight. It would be so much easier if the fight were physical. The mental battle is so utterly exhausting. Some days I just get tired of fighting. I struggle to hold myself together with tape and glue and little bits of string, and I hug myself tightly until all the pieces click back into place. Until I can take a breath without my chest hurting. Until I can think thoughts that aren’t only terrible and black. Until I can stand to fight for another day. Because, one day this gets easier. Even if it’s just for a little while. It gets easier. And until then – I’ll be tape and glue and bits of string.

What Are You Waiting For?

I grew up in a small Southern town. Most people know that the South places a large emphasis on family. Southern parents cannot wait for their children to get married and have children of their own. Most girls are encouraged to get an education, but they are also encouraged to get married early and start families. A lot of my friends and acquaintances from school are married and have children or are married or have children. Growing up, I always thought I would be married and have kids by the time I was the age I am now. But it has not happened for me yet. I haven’t found the right person. For the longest time, it’s like my life has been on hold. I’ve been waiting to live it. I’ve been waiting to find someone, and then I’ll move out of my parents’ house. I’ve been waiting to get married, and then I will travel the world and do all the things I want to do. I’ve been waiting to have children, and then I will be happy. I was in a reflective mood a few days ago, and I realized that the only thing holding me back from living my life is…me.

There are so many things to see and experience, and enjoy in life. But I’ve been waiting. I want to go to Harry Potter world in Universal Studios, I want to see the world, and I want to write a novel. The only reason I haven’t done any of those things is because I’m holding myself back, and for what? For the life I imagined I would have? For someone to share it with? What if I never find that person or get to the imaginary point where I think I need to be? I will have wasted my whole existence…just waiting. I’m learning that I might never get married, and that’s okay. I’m learning how to be happy just being me. I don’t have to wait for the “right” circumstances, because let’s face it, they might never come. I can experience the world; I can have adventures; I can enjoy myself; and I can LIVE. I’m done holding myself back; I’m done waiting.

Different is Beautiful

“I just wish I was normal.” “Why can’t I be more normal?” It’s something people with mental illnesses struggle with. They compare themselves to the normal people. The ones who have everything figured out. But nobody’s life is perfect. No one has everything figured out. Millions of people are just struggling to find their way in our constantly evolving world. What is normal anyway? What criteria must a person meet to be considered normal? Merriam – Webster defines normal as “conforming to a type, standard, or regular pattern,” but I say normal does not exist. It isn’t a physical destination or a state of being. It isn’t anything. Normal is a fictional status that people struggle to reach, but never can. But the question I have for you is this: why would you want to be normal anyway? You were not made to fit someone else’s image of who you should be. You were made to stand out. To be different and beautifully, oh so beautifully, broken. How monotonous and predictable would the world be if we were all the same? People are born to be unique. Everyone has the quirks that make them stand out from others. For some of us those quirks occur because of mental illnesses. Jenny Lawson once said, “She taught me it was better to be beautifully broken than perfectly the same.” That poignant statement resonates with me. I might have mental disorders that sometimes make me feel like I’m crazy or different, but they are mine. I wouldn’t be me without my mental issues. I fight to overcome the things depression and anxiety tell me about myself, but I don’t want to know how different I would be if I didn’t have those struggles. Because I wouldn’t be me. I may not always like myself or see what an amazing and beautiful person I can be, but there are people who love me just for who I am. There are friends I wouldn’t have if I was someone different. People who see my beauty. People who hold me up when I’m falling apart and make me laugh when I just want to cry. And I would not give those people up for all the normal in the world.


Hold On: It Gets Better

Are you struggling with work, school, life, adulting, or even just functioning as a human being? It’s okay if you are. I’ll tell you a secret – so am I. Some days I wonder how I got here. I didn’t have a rough childhood. I was actually pretty blessed as a kid. I was blessed with parents and a large extended family who all love me and support me. I was blessed with a brother who reminds me of the type of person I want to be. I was extremely blessed with amazing friends who have always been there for me when I need someone. Even with all those things there are still some days that I can’t function. Some days where I want to leave work to crawl under my covers and hide from the world. Some days where simply interacting with other human beings is almost more than I can handle. On those days, I feel so alone. It feels like no one can understand the pain I’m feeling. And that is just not true. That’s the depression lying to me and attacking my brain. That’s my anxiety telling me that no one else understands, and that I’m just weird. No one else feels like I do. There are so many people who suffer from the same disorders that I suffer from. Depression and anxiety may manifest themselves differently for everybody, but there are bunches of people who can understand how I feel. So, I have a message for those of you who sometimes feel alone, misunderstood, and hopeless:  You are not alone. You are not the only one who feels this way. There is nothing wrong with you. You may be broken, but you are broken in a way that makes you beautiful. Because while negative emotions may weigh more heavily on you than they do on others, positive emotions can also carry you higher than those “normal” people can ever go. People like us – they feel more. The feel more sadness, but they also feel more joy. So, when you are ready to give up just know that’s depression and anxiety double teaming you to keep you down, because once you are flying high with happiness they can’t touch you. They have no power over you there in your happy places. And when you are down, and those evil doucheroos have their hold on you, do whatever you can to stay sane – to stay you. Build forts out of pillows and sheets to hide in. Sing the songs that make you want to hold on to life. Color, knit, draw, write, talk to friends, just do whatever you need to do to hold on to yourself. I’m writing to you from my blanket fort with my stuffed raccoon, Marvin, while I try desperately to cling to the things that keep me afloat when my depression and anxiety are threatening to drown me.



I’ve been there; I know those feelings all too well. I’ve clung desperately to life when all I wanted to do was give up, because just being alive hurt too much to breathe. People like us are unique and magnificent and beautiful, and yes, a little bit broken too.