Depression

As a forty-something mom, I rarely shop at Urban Outfitters anymore; I suppose I’ve graduated up to their sister brand, Anthropologie, w

When my husband and I began trying to conceive, I was anxious about how my antidepressant medication would affect a pregnancy, especially after reading terrifying pseudo-scientific articles and judgmental, paranoid commentary lurking in The Seventh Circle of Hell known as mommy boards.

Sex is not something we often hear about when talking about depression. But we should. Because it stops. Sex drive plummets.

I know he did not finish our program duration. I know that I finished the program with no friends, and very few people who even believed me. I consider myself very lucky to have survived the situation with mostly just a bruised ego, but I will always feel guilty.

We know that this year alone, one in five Australians will experience some form of mental illness. What we might not know is that only one in four will receive a get well or greeting card. Studies have indicated that psychiatric inpatients receive only “half as many cards and gifts when compared to medical inpatients.” Two Australian sisters, Trudy and Sam, intend to change that.

I find myself in this place again. I am numb. I feel empty. I almost have no words.
In 2012, around the time of the birth of my son, I had a similar feeling. Trayvon Martin was killed. I was pregnant with a black male in a world that was not ready for him.

One thing I cannot forget was how much I wanted to “get sick.” How I longed to get some sort of ailment or bedridden condition. I cannot forget how I prayed to become ill.

I’m sure the Pokemon Go phenomenon will fade before long, but for the moment, it’s just dumb FUN that might even be good for you. The game cannot fix and should not distract us from the shit-fucking terrible goddamn week we’ve had in the world, but it can remind us that we all need to practice self-care, whatever package it comes in.