In the darkest of times, I sit half-dressed on the cold tile of the bathroom floor with hair dangling down, knees pulled to chest, and tears streaming down my face. I rock back and forth to feel my bare back against the wall I have painted Swimming Blue myself, and I whisper over and over again: I am not my mental health.
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You might think the winter brings about sugar cookies and snowflakes, but for those of us suffering from anxiety and depression, the cold winter months bring about a lot more than just chillier weather and cute winter jackets. Continue reading
My depression is not pretty. It is not cute, catchy, or attractive. It does not cause heads to turn, hands to clap, or lips to smile. Continue reading
The bottom line is that you cannot wait or count on someone that’s depressed to ask you for anything. There is too much embarrassment and fear of burdening you. So if you want to help, you’re going to have to make an effort.
The relative that suddenly pulls up in the driveway, lugging their bags into the house, declaring their week-long stay will eventually leave. You will breathe a sigh of relief when the stay is done, help them pack their car, and wave from the front porch. The weight that is lifted from you is only darkened by the knowledge that they will return. It will happen again. Continue reading
Hi there! I’m Mollie. I’m an aunt, educator, and dog-lover. I’m also a pretty big mental-health advocate, which you can probably tell if you click around a bit. There’s more about me, but those are the basics you need to know.
Learn more about me here.
Hot Mess Mollie 