I can’t help you travel hack. Or decorate. Or speed clean. Or declutter or organize. Or make any fucking meal at all unless it’s from a package. I have no recipes or shopping lists or mom hacks to share.
I can tell you about failure. About rejection. About body dysmorphia. About self hatred and eating disorders. About feeling like a loser and feeling massively different. About anxiety. About clinical depression.
I can tell you about choosing a different way. I can tell you about fighting your family patterns, your own brain, about learning to love yourself deeply and unconditionally and forgiving yourself for your past mistakes and missteps. I can tell you about picking mentors who inspire and ignite your soul. I can tell you what’s helped me along this path of dealing with mental health and mental differences and what continues to work and why.
I always thought in order to contribute in any meaningful way to society, you had to be on the other side of something, and I hadn’t felt I was yet. But I’ve learned that I do know a lot, right now, and I am indeed on the other side of many things like fertility struggles, an eating disorder, and well, lots of things.
Not on the other side of depression, always alongside. But fighting, always fighting. Alongside life and parenthood and marriage too. I can tell you about sometimes literally fighting for your own life in your own brain. So many people don’t want to talk about it; it’s too dark and too depressing but it’s too real for so many of us and I want to be there alongside you if that is your fight.
So I’m showing up here, so freaking imperfectly, but I’m ready to make my own mess my message. I’m here for you. Let’s go.