Is it
the fierce red
of days filled with passion and drive
springing out of the bed
watching thoughts come alive.

Everyone (myself included) has said the two golden words, “Be yourself.” By saying this, magically everything should fall into place, people will like you and the world will fall at your feet. We think that these two words obtain the key to success.

Pre-Covid-19, I found myself in this space of grieving the loss of life as it was just a few months prior but also feeling gratitude for some of the changes and opportunities that came with them.

I’ve discovered that now my regret is laced with a glimmer of hope. Maybe it won’t disappear. And if it does, maybe another thing that I love will follow.

i don't want to sit upright
my slumpy shoulders are comfy
my arched back sometimes carries
the weight of the world
better than it's perpendicular counterpart

If you’re surprised to hear that talking about food makes someone vulnerable, I envy you, because that probably means you’ve never felt ashamed or guilty about your food choices. Personally, though, I can’t imagine going through my life without ever having those feelings. And the more I talk about my experiences with others, the more I realize I’m not alone.

For years I have been the outcast, but not the outcast who just dressed differently or who listened to peculiar music, although I was guilty of that too. I was the little girl who was not “black enough”.

I am proud to show my personal photography as I want to end the stigma around mental illness and let people know that they're not alone in what they're feeling.

I lost a part of myself the day I lost my dad. But I’m learning that everything happens for a reason. Maybe I’ll never know why my dad was taken from us so soon, but I can believe that I’m made to be stronger and a better version of myself because of it.

I am not ashamed to take medication to treat an illness that has dragged me through the depths of hell and has held my brain hostage for weeks and months on end. I’m not ashamed to take medication so that I am able to get off this roller coaster and see the world like you do. I want to enjoy life with my family.

If I had told my friend that I couldn’t get together because I had the flu, a migraine, or God forbid, I got in a car accident, I have absolutely no doubt that the response would have been sympathetic. So what gives? Why isn’t the response just as compassionate when it comes to mental health?

My children didn’t ask for this. They didn’t ask for life or for a mother who is unhappy. I don’t want my depression to be the part of the story they remember or long to change.

I could hide behind my successful career, smiling everywhere I went, pretending life was okay. However, threadbare garments only last so long before they are in shreds and eventually the curtain came down. Unless you were close to me you may never have noticed that something was amiss.

I didn’t know how to communicate it, and I guess nobody in my world knew the right questions to ask. I guess I thought the constant hum of worry over everything and nothing in the back of my mind was just...motherhood.

I'm tired of my brain feeling sick. I'm tired of feeling like I need to prove that I'm ill even when I look fine on the outside. I'm tired of my anxiety and panic being the most interesting things about me.

Losing a loved one has to be one of the hardest things we can experience as humans. But it’s also something we know will happen, no matter what, at some point in our lives. Dealing with that grief and permanence and inevitability can be overwhelming.

My decision to commit suicide came while I stood in front of an open dresser drawer choosing socks before picking up my kids from their play date. My drinking had escalated after my youngest arrived, a response to my belief in myself as ill-equipped to mother more than one child.

Today was a bad day. Today I had to count on my fingers the joys, the moments of good. Most days there is no counting because most days we laugh and play and, yes, life is not perfect and we all get angry and have our moments, but the vast majority of the day is good. The vast majority of the day is joy. But that’s most days, and today was not most days.

Expectations were made to either be met or shattered, and life is a lot easier when you keep the bar low - both for yourself and others. This is just a fact of life. But I’ve come to learn in the past year that easy living does not equate to full living, and saying “yes” has a tendency to open doors that “no” could never even begin to touch.

Anxiety, what does it feel like? For me, it feels like I'm running a marathon, except I don't know what mile marker I'm at. My chest tightens, my pulse quickens, I try to breathe deeply but usually it comes up short. At times, in my most severe anxiety attacks, I have felt like a CD or DVD that is scratched and so the same line or word keeps repeating.