mental health

Suicidality is a strange thing. Sometimes you think you’ve shaken it off, but it’s actually still there, quietly brewing under the surface until something triggers it.

It’s like the writers and producers sat around and said, “Let’s put all the most f*cked up recent cultural references in one season and be the most forward, innovative, social justice show out there!” It’s literally the exploitation and voyeurism of our pain on a platter for the world to gawk at and consume.

Rejection happens to everyone, in some way: Your kindergarten crush who called you gross, someone you love rejecting your identity, losing a job or a lover.

The inimitable Alice Walker said, “When you are creating beauty around you, you are restoring your own soul.” As someone with multiple mental illnesses, I truly believe that crafting has soul-restoring properties.

Most people view regret as a sign of personal failure. As a sign that they have made some sort of error. The more serious they believe that error to be, the more regret they feel. It’s as if people view decisions as diverging paths, with one side leading to happiness and the other leading to regret. If you’re smart, you’ll choose the correct path. Therefore, when you end up experiencing regret, it’s evidence that you were foolish enough to choose the “wrong” path.

When I share that I’m in a bad place, I’m told to curl up in bed with a nice book, eat my favorite ice cream or to take a relaxing bath. While these are all wonderful and helpful ideas, I think it’s important to discuss aspects of self-care that aren’t all about resting and treating yourself.

“Wow, what happened?” (as eyes glance at my stomach area)
What do you mean, “What happened?” When asked this, I sometimes wonder if little aliens are flying around my waist or if blood is spewing from my hips.

Most nights I rely on trashy reality TV to unjumble my thoughts and get centered. To some, that logic is a little fuzzy, but to me, focusing on someone else’s preventable drama seems far preferable to obsessing over my own.