A Time For Reflection. I Mean Deflection + Misdirection.

Life is m-effing weird.

Between THIS and THIS, I have to say, a few of you are pretty awesome and deserve extra Bert screams and a lot of you really suck ballz and should be handcuffed to Miley Cyrus for a week.

I could go on and on and on about how this chapter of my life is a really huge warning to anyone who realizes they are in a desperate state + conjures enough courage and humbleness to ask for help before there is no next time. Because in the end, it's a sonofabitch crap shoot. Maybe you'll read the words, heed the warnings, reach out to me, or others around you who are suffering in silence, too, or, maybe you'll read the words, pretend you didn't, and have a great life without a second thought about the points I'm trying to make here. I have found the latter to be more prevalent and that's really, really sad. Not just for me, but for any poor kid, teen, or adult going through the same emotions I know too well.

It's clear now why so many people drink themselves to death (or drugs or collect ceramic puppies or whatever pushes you into your dark place the fastest). It's the easiest way to get people to pay an-effing-ttention, and even then...crap shoot, remember? And just future ref, agents and others, I'm documenting everything about this mental health experiment gone awry because WHY NOT capitalize on my cray? <--I ain't no dummy.

One "professional" actually told me to Google coping skills, then took my money like a cheap hooker (but she wasn't cheap). On a Tuesday! In broad daylight! I can't help but laugh. Probably because I'm crazy now and if I don't laugh I'll collect more ceramic puppies! I could go on and on and on about this. I could. You know I could. But really, who cares? I've lost interest so you must be bored out of your mind! I'll go back to hiding away in my cold, dark house (that's the way I like it) where I'll post things like this instead:

You're welcome.

And just so you know, my cat hates long walks on the beach,Grumpy Cat, and all of humanity. Those are noodles, not worms.

<3

Candyland. OUT.

You Can't Run Away From You

It's been 5 days since I lost myself.

Thanks to those of you who have checked in on me. I'm doing great! I "found" myself and figured out all the answers to dealing with everything. I can breathe! And it's all because I decided to just be happy! That's it! No drugs or intensive therapy needed. Just a smile and a skip in my step.

Lies. 

I wish I could say that that but honestly, I'm more broken than 5 days ago. A well has opened up inside my heart and it's flooding, drowning me. I mentioned feeling like something snapped in my brain, something changed on Sunday. I was right. A trigger went off, opened decades of darkness, and Thursday, I was diagnosed with PTSD.

You're not going to know the details, the reasons, behind this diagnosis (because I want to sell my memoir, currently on sub, and I'd rather you buy that instead of reading this for free!). All that matters is I have put my soul on display here not only so I can the help I need, but so all of you can, too.

Do NOT be ashamed, friends.

October 5-11th is Mental Illness Awareness Week and National Depression Screening Day is Thursday, October 9th. If you're unsure as to whether you need help or not, if it's serious enough to go through all the motions, I beg of you to start with this anonymous online screening where, at the end, you'll be referred to a clinic offering full evaluations. With the messages I've received, there are so many of you hurting, ashamed, embarrassed, afraid, holding it all in. I am screaming at the top of my lungs for you to say something, to do something because what you're dealing with can be fixed. I tell you these things because I so desperately need to believe them for myself. Without hope, there is nothing.

Taking an online assessment won't solve all your problems but it's a start. In fact, just doing anything to take action is the hardest part. Trust me.

Insert reason number FIVE people don't reach out for help when they need it. If you're just joining us, please go back and read THIS POST before moving on.

A) You finally decide to ask for help and you go to someone who can't really help you. She tells you to take a bath when stressed, to eat when hungry, and to go to the hospital when feeling suicidal. You leave, still, with no coping skills to use immediately. You feel worse than before and consider throwing in the towel. Oh, and her next appointment isn't for 3 weeks. Good luck with that.

B) So, after sobbing for what feels like forever, you peel yourself off the floor, call FIVE other places, and they don't accept your insurance and/or the first appointment isn't for at least 2+ weeks. Oh, but if you're really that sad, you should what? GO TO THE HOSPITAL!

I. Can't. Even.

This is everything wrong with the mental health system in a nutshell. I have been through an exhausting war this week and the battle hasn't even begun. I have yet to actually tackle all these wounds that are paralyzing me in my daily life. And what about the next trigger? Will it be my last? As I listen to my children's laughter, this scares me to my core. I want to get better, to feel like I'm not being pulled under with no air left to breathe.

And somewhere in me, I know it's now or never.

To those of YOU suffering, if I can go through the humiliation of posting all of my experiences, put myself out there despite the shame and [mostly] fear of no one giving a rat's behind, YOU can reach out for help, too. Please take advantage of the screenings offered in your area in the next week, or sooner, and get the party started. I will be with you every step of the way. Not really. But somewhere inside of you. That's what he said (I'm still me).

Please share this with everyone you know. It might save a life.

<3

Candyland. OUT.