Greetings From the Suburbs of Sanity
A couple of days ago, I was cheering to some friends that my therapist will be back from maternity leave soon. A friend responded, “Party down to sanity town!”
Mental Health
You Get Therapy, You Get Therapy, Everyone Gets Therapy!
I was thinking I hadn’t felt all that depressed this winter. Then I realized that everyone else is also depressed so I’m only less depressed by comparison. It’s difficult to wallow in this temporary darkness when we are all engulfed in an existential muck. We are all Artax and we’re walking through the Swamp of Sadness. Even the most optimistic among us are Atreyu, at best — doomed to keep up that grim determination lest The Nothing descend upon us all.
When You Don’t Trust Birth and Your Therapist Gets Pregnant
I don’t trust birth.
Or pregnancy.
There. I said it.
I feel like I’m supposed to be a good little half-hippie, trusting birth and bodies and earthmothergoddessblahblahblah.
When Self-Care is a “Relaxing” Bath Next to a Bowl Full of Pee
Give a burned-out mother five minutes and a Google search bar and she’ll be told no fewer than a dozen times that she needs to practice some self-care. Self-care is seen as this magical cure-all for anxiety, stress, and all that bothers you in life. I’m pretty sure it cures athlete’s foot and eczema, too.
Welcome to the Winter of My Discontent
Y’all. I know it’s only November. I know this, but all that does is worry me more about what the next few months will be like.
Anxiety – An Invasive Species
It starts as scattered seeds — kernels anchored by anxiety and waiting for the right conditions to sprout. Some days they are fertilized by memories. Some days by fear. Most often they germinate themselves, arriving with a lunchbox of sunlight and water as they feed one another.
Self Care in the Age of Doing it All
Read the first part of this story over at Today Parenting Team.
I was in an airport bar sitting solo with my computer and an empty beer glass. I had just ordered cheesecake that I didn’t have to share