#OCDame

It was the night before my father’s funeral that I finally asked the tarot for help. I was incapable of imagining a future where I delivered his eulogy.

The facade of control I’d spent so much energy maintaining was ripped from me. I am doing my best, and that’s good enough for me.

In what’s been the most difficult year of my life, animal companionship has been as essential to my mental wellbeing as the time spent with my family.

My dad died. I only know my own grief, and even that is debatable. If you’re hoping to comfort someone who’s grieving, here are a couple of things to know.

Content Notice: mass shootings and violence, suicide mention

In the midst of struggling with being depressed, you’re also saddled with the practical realities of staying alive. It’s no easy feat.

Healing is hard work. It will be hard today, tomorrow, next week, next month, 3 years from now.

More than any other unsolicited mental health advice I’ve received over the course of my life is the admonishment to “fake it till you make it.”