5 Reasons to Come Down Off That Ledge!

Five Things To Remember When You Are Feeling your Worst

5. You have felt happiness before and you WILL surely feel it again.

4. Life is short, with a max of around 100 years to put in total, you may as well take a shot at seeing if something better comes along. In the end you’ll die anyway but in the meantime, even one or two amazing moments will be well worth sticking around for.

3. The best, most inspiring, authentic, effective people have been right where you are at least once. You are in stellar company.

2. Someone loves you. Someone has loved you. Someone will love you. Imagine, actually, know in your heart that someone loves you. Try to hone in on what that thought elicits for you. Feel it. Bottle it…save it for whenever you need it.

1. You deserve life. You would not exist if you didn’t. I’m not commenting on how good a person you are or are not (at least with me, when I’m feeling like shit about myself there’s no talking me out of it). But, even if you are the worthless piece of crap you’re telling yourself you are (you’re not by the way, but if you insist)…the proof is in the pudding. You are here, therefore you are meant to be here. I can’t fathom that you would be here, even as you struggle, if there wasn’t some mission, minor or major, for you to fulfill.

My advice here is heartfelt and lighthearted and it is truly what worked for me in my scariest moments. That said, I am not an expert nor a psychologist. If you are in any danger of harming yourself, please seek help immediately from a loved one and/or a professional.

You can also call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

Uh, yeah, this guy’s gonna show us how it’s done!


Nothing puts things in perspective (and can make me feel like a whiny puss) like witnessing a fellow human being overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles! If he can do this, I, you, most of us can most certainly deal with our lots.

Watch the whole thing. And get high off the inspiration! 🙂

Mother’s Little Helpers…

I don’t mean to make light of mental illness. It is not funny. And, there are people near and dear to me who have been afflicted. Still, with one in four women taking psych meds, a person has to wonder (or at least I do), is there something wrong with all of these women? Or is there something wrong with the paradigm in which we live? I mean, are that many women just inherently flawed?

Consider that this statistic doesn’t even include women who abuse alcohol, street drugs, or obtain prescription meds illegally.

It’s a hard question to ask and harder to answer. Have we developed into a society that is so oppositional to women’s needs that women are forced to get stoned in order to keep going? Or, are we women spoiled? Lacking endurance? What’s the problem? What’s not working?

This is a topic dear to my heart. I had a run in with a psychotropic medication. Within hours of taking Prozac only ONE time, I became legitimately suicidal, crying inconsolably for hours and panicked, with my children still in my care. It was one of the most frightening episodes I’ve ever experienced. I had been suffering from depression in the aftermath of my husband leaving. But, I was not suffering from a chronic chemical imbalance, I was responding authentically to a true life crisis. My preference at the time would have been for the drug to work. Upon reflection, I am grateful it didn’t work. I had to go through the grueling, sometimes debilitating stages of grief and recovery. I had to leave no emotional stone unturned. Frankly, I still wake up on many days thinking  – “Really? This is my life? Really?” – as I stare longingly at my pillow, wishing to slink back under the covers and dream the perfect dream to assuage my anxiety and insecurity. But, I get up and I care for my kids and I do what I can, one little bit at a time.

All of that said, I did what works for me. I incorporated exercise and lots of reading, writing, soul searching, healthy foods, water, time with friends, therapy (which was hit and miss and dependent on available funds). I don’t doubt that meds help people. In fact I know people who have been helped by them. But, I know more women who are lingering in an odd sedated dissatisfaction, mellowed enough to function but too mellowed to let the inertia of discomfort push them toward evolution and perhaps the dreaded, “change.”

This is a tough issue. Are we all fucked up? Or are we just women? Hormonal, moody, needy, demanding, stoic, sensitive … the full spectrum of human?

Some among us are indeed bipolar, clinically depressed and/or chemically imbalanced. But as those numbers increase, should we ask why? When more women are medicated than not, does crazy become normal?

I don’t have the answers. I’m asking the questions right now and intend to revisit this topic.

It’s Wine O’clock Somewhere

My neighbor/friend/comrade in overwhelmed parenthood-ness, likes to say, as the sun sets on our block, “it’s wine o’clock.” This is broadcast to me via a yell from down the street, a text message or a whisper accompanied by the removal of wine from her fridge and distribution into our glasses. For her, an appropriate wine glass. For me, a shot glass (or as she calls it, “a thimble”). I feel like a midget drinking from my tiny wares. But my petite frame renders me an undignified lightweight. Even though I only partake once in a while, those nights are a little mellower, a little funnier, a little closer to manageable. With a little imbibing our veils come off, I learn more about her wilder, thinner, more exciting days and she learns more about mine. It’s a bonding thing. So, why not drink more or at least more often? Continue reading