Back when I was in college at Western Kentucky University from approximately 2003-2007, I was what you would call a “broke-ass bitch.” I also had a large group of friends I will call my “broke-ass bitch” friends.
I often ask myself – and them – why we were so broke. All of us had jobs. Most of us were servers or bartenders. We all worked a lot.
So what were we spending all of our money on? Odd that you ask. I had to think hard about this.
Last week, I was talking to a man who asked me if I thought
women could have it all. You know, the whole shebang. The real deal. The DREAM.
A beautiful family, a great career, a house with a white picket fence and a dog
that doesn’t jump on every person that enters the house. A great social life, a
physically fit body with flawless makeup and a humanitarian.
I came to the quick conclusion that no, women cannot have it all.
We can make it look that way on social media, but we all know that’s not true.
He seemed very surprised at this answer coming from me.
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.