September is Suicide Prevention Month and even if not many people read this, I do hope someone that is struggling finds even a shred of comfort in my message…
The way I see it, suicide is not a conclusion you come to in one day. No, it is years of feeling like the walls are too closed. The voices too loud. And feeling too alone for too long. It is a combination of everything happening at once and without anything to hold on to. So I don’t blame you for feeling like there’s no way out. But, if I could gift you with one thing, it would be the ability to see just how strong you are. We sometimes talk about strength like it has to do with breaking a record or climbing a mountain, or surviving a flood. And, if I could give you this gift, you would see all the times your strength meant more than any of these things stitched together.
Continue reading ➞ “How to Survive a Flood”
Claire Wineland was an activist and a public speaker living with cystic fibrosis. She often made YouTube videos about her life with CF. She inspired people all over the world and talked about the intricacies of life and death. She was amazingly fearless and had enough spirit to fill up a building. She passed away after a lung transplant after suffering a massive stroke. If you don’t know who she was, here is one of my favorite talks from her. I thought I should share what she meant to me since she inspired me so much. Rest in Peace Claire.
In this heartbreaking moment, it has been one day since I found out Claire Wineland has passed, and I don’t know how to feel. Or I think I do. I feel like I am stapling all my feelings of sorrow and shock and confusion to my spine and one wrong move, just one, and I can promise the universe I’ll collapse.
Continue reading ➞ Thank You Claire Wineland
I keep having the same bad dream…
A quaint town, full of people I have never seen or heard, walk out of a church. Dressed in white. And, although no one is crying and there is no casket, I somehow know it is a funeral. It’s in the way the men have parted their hair that morning and the way the women hang on to their daughters’ wrists. Partly because they are in the presence of a future they warn their daughters about before they head out on a Friday night.
Continue reading ➞ “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now”
The beeping noise traveling from room 309 to the center of the hallway won’t shut the hell up. There is a vomit inducing smell of alcohol in the air. And not the medical kind. The one that forces you to touch your nose, discreetly, after catching a whiff of Joe the neighborhood hobo on a Sunday morning.
Continue reading ➞ Psych Ward