A few days before Christmas, I decided that I needed a break. I was tired, agitated, stressed and couldn’t stop thinking about everything I needed to do to prepare for the upcoming holiday.
I decided to do a social media blackout. I took the social media apps off my phone and dove into ALL the things that needed to be done. Not surprisingly, I finished them in a record amount of time.
As a blogger, I spend a lot of time on social media. That is simply part of my brand. But part of the reason I started my blog is because social media puts such crazy unrealistic expectations into our lives.
I know that going to get a pedicure won’t cure the burnout of a mom, but it feels pretty damn good to be alone for two hours without the kids. And that’s exactly what I’m doing right now. And it’s glorious.
I feel like social media has been such a buzzkill lately, especially with Election Day right around the corner. There’s so much trash talk and negativity and it don’t like it.
But there is also so much good on social media. So many ways to stay in touch with friends you don’t get to see nearly as much as you want.… CONTINUE READING
Approximately 35 years ago, I was born. I think I might have come out sneezing.
I am a huge nerd with a long list of allergies. When I was in high school my eyes would swell shut at track meets from the grass. Always an extremely attractive look for anyone I was trying to impress. Or see.
For some reason, my parents never thought that taking me to get tested for allergies was a good idea, so I just suffered.
When I turned into an actual adult, I had enough. I was starting to get migraines and took matters into my own hands because I had good insurance.
I have been, and continue to be, very open about my
experiences with depression and anxiety.
Depression and anxiety are illnesses that I will most likely
deal with for the rest of my life.
But there is one thing that I wasn’t doing that I should
have done a long time ago when it came to coping with my depression and anxiety.
I wasn’t going to therapy.
I have been to therapy before, but it was always one of those
things that I thought of as something that was nice to do, but not necessary. I
would go to a few visits, then ghost my therapist like a bad date because other
things in life took precedence.
I feel like self-care has become such a buzzword lately. It’s everywhere, mostly in parenting blogs, like mine – HA.
“Moms need to take care of themselves! You have to practice self-care to be a balanced human and a good parent and spouse. Blah blah blah.”
But seriously, who has time for self-care? To me, it feels like just another task that has to be completed, and if it’s between me doing the laundry and going to see a movie by myself, I’m going to do the laundry.
I know, the laundry will wait for me. It’s not moving.
No shit, my laundry hasn’t moved without my help over the last ten years.
To be 100% honest, I don’t know how to start this post. I have been writing about my past issues with depression lately, but today I want to talk about an episode I had with depression just about six months ago.
I am not a doctor. I am not a specialist. But I have experienced depression. And if I can help someone by sharing my story and being real and open, I am all for it.
And to be totally honest, this is not something that is easy to talk about. The only people who really knew I was suffering from depression at the time were my husband and possibly my mom.
I know that you are having a hard time with life right now. You are battling depression and anxiety and sometimes you literally don’t know how you are going to make it through the day. Your mind is full of doubt and racing with worry to the point of having panic attacks.
So you self-medicate and drink. And drink. And drink. You still make it to your 8-5 job with a smile on your face and manage to somehow make it through each day. But you are hiding the fact that you are so hungover from last night’s bar crawl that you have to run to the bathroom to vomit a few times.
On my Facebook page the other day, I decided to jump on the “How Hard Has Aging Hit You Extravaganza for 30-Somethings Reliving Their Best Life Via Facebook” challenge. I had my profile picture from college next to my current profile picture. The pictures were taken approximately twelve years and one hundred forty-two bottles of self tanner apart.
I could say that having children aged me. Or having a full time job and a mortgage and responsibilities has aged me. But I know that it’s really the fact that I am actually twelve years older that has aged me. And I have cut the tanning bed out of my life.