But I Can't.

Recently, I had the opportunity to speak at the Northeast Greek Leadership Association's annual conference and afterwards, a young lady came up to me with tears in her eyes and quietly asked for my card. I could tell that she needed to talk, but knew that she wasn't yet ready. I hoped and prayed that she would email me or call me or send me smoke signals. Anything. 

Fortunately, she did. We have been exchanging emails back and forth, talking about being over-programmed, over-whelmed, and unsupported. These are the conversations that I live for... to be able to swap stories, explore our own potential for happiness, and share in vulnerability. One of my most used phrases (both in writing and conversation) is "I want to challenge you..." I love the idea of being able to present opportunities for others. It feels like getting a quest or mission, like your Zelda or Frodo or Inigo Montoya. Is my nerd showing yet?

During my conversation with my new friend, we came to the topic of seeking out time with a counselor or therapist. This is always a tricky conversation- there is such a stigma around mental health that seeking help from a professional is scary or shameful, when it definitely shouldn't be. One of the excuses that I have heard- and myself used- the most is "I am already so busy. Adding counseling to my schedule will just bring me more stress!" 

Let's unpack this one, friends. If you had a cavity in your tooth, would you wait and hope that it would fix itself? If you broke your arm, would you still go into work with a bone sticking through the skin. I really, really hope that you said no. Why should taking care of our mental health be any different? We have got to stop making excuses for why we can't see a mental health professional. Your health- physical, spiritual, and mental- is so important.

I'm gonna challenge you real quick- make a list of everything that you have going on in your life. Job, partner, leadership position, volunteering, pets, school, family, church. List it all. Then, I want you to rank everything from least to most important to YOU. No ties! Now look at the thing that you ranked last. Would you be okay with giving that up for an hour so that you can go see a counselor or therapist? Do it. Find the time to take care of yourself. You deserve it.

Imposter Syndrome.

If you have never felt Imposter Syndrome, I can best describe it as being quite similar to the feeling that you get when you are leaving a store, but have not purchased anything. You know the feeling. It makes you nervous, you keep telling yourself to act normal, and you want to turn around and yell "I'M NOT STEALING ANYTHING. Y'ALL JUST DIDN'T HAVE ANYTHING I WANTED TO BUY. I'M NOT A CRIMINAL." You know that you haven't stolen anything, but you fear that people are giving you sideward glances and must assume that you are shoplifting.

That is how it feels to have Imposter Syndrome. It is this omnipresent feeling that someone is going to call you out and let everyone know that you are a fake and you don't belong. This feeling is most readily associated with women in the workplace- something that I totally understand and feel regularly as one of the few women in my field. However, I think that Imposter Syndrome is often felt by people who struggle with mental illness. 

One of the things I hear most often when talking about anxiety, depression, and the like is that people are afraid their feelings won't be taken seriously. Sound familiar? Imposter Syndrome within in context of mental illness can cause us to keep how we feel to ourselves, to downplay our struggles, and avoid seeking help. A loop starts to play in our heads: "maybe I'm not depressed, maybe I'm just being dramatic, maybe my feelings aren't as bad as other peoples, maybe I won't be taken seriously." I have often found myself getting sucked into this thought pattern. There is this fear that my depression and anxiety is a figment of my imagination. 

But I know it is not. My feelings and your feelings are valid. They are real. Imposter Syndrome distorts reality- whether it makes you feel like you aren't good enough to be doing something or it makes you believe that you're a fraud or your feelings aren't real. The first step in combatting Imposter Syndrome is acknowledging it is there. Only then can you start to work on validating your feelings and constructing YOUR reality. 

You is smart. You is kind. You is not an imposter.

The Masks We Wear.

Recently, my fiancé and I started pre-marital counseling, which has been an odd transition for me after 8-plus years of seeing counselors individually. We are supposed to work through things like "how will you raise your kids" or "what is your approach to money management"; yet, our conversations haven't been able to address those topics quite yet. We have had to talk to death a challenge we are currently facing. While a necessary part of the couples counseling process, it has been painful and unpleasant. But it has also led to some pretty astounding revelations. Last night, my crippling fear of masks was the revelation of the hour.

Not masks like Halloween masks- albeit I will be the first to tell you that I am truly terrified of costumes that cover peoples faces- but the masks that we create and wear to protect ourselves from other people, from hurt, from ourselves. For years, I wore a mask. Every day, I worked tirelessly to make sure that no one would see the real me- the girl struggling with depression and anxiety, who felt like she couldn't keep herself glued together no matter how much primping took place. I wanted to be the perfect daughter, sister, student, sorority woman, employee, friend, sweetheart. Mental illness isn't perfect; it is messy. My mask covered that mess.

Until January 28th, 2016, when I decided to publicly take off my mask and toss it aside. That day, I promised that I would be authentic and real. I committed myself to sharing stories in order to help others see that mental illness is not something to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. I gave up the mask and it was scary and painful, but so worth it. Yet now, over a year later, I have found myself wearing a mask once again... pretending to be someone I am not. I find this mask suffocating and cruel. I want to fight it. Everything in my body is telling me to rip it off and throw it away with spite and anger.

But I can't. Because this mask isn't for me. It is for someone else. Sometimes we are asked to wear a mask in order to help others... like when visiting a sick friend and bringing cheer and smiles when all we want to do is cry. It may sound counterintuitive, but there are times when pretending is the best way to be authentic. Deep, meaningful love and tremendous care for others may mean gently settling into a part, a role, a place, a mask. It may be uncomfortable. It can bring great sadness.

That is the gamble that comes from sharing your life with others. There are days when you must wear a mask for someone else... to ease their suffering or to make their life better. But that doesn't mean that you lose yourself behind that mask. My revelation was that, although I hate wearing a mask, there is so much freedom in being able to decide when and where I will wear it. You have the control to decide the fate of your story, to decide who get to be apart of it and who gets to know it. That freedom is liberating. It is cleansing. While we all must wear masks from time to time, know that the decision to embrace that mask is yours alone.

“No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true.” -Nathaniel Hawthorne in The Scarlet Letter

Say Its Name.

Language has so much power. While in college, I had to take a linguistic anthropology class, which was as boring as the name suggests and seemed like a tremendous waste of my time. I admit that I was a terrible student in that class and spent 90% of my time on Facebook or reading pointless articles, thus I probably missed many profound moments with that specific professor... until the very last day of class. On that day, I had actually forgotten my laptop at home and was forced to pay attention to the knowledge being dropped upon the class- I feel very fortunate that I did. My professor ended the course with a quote from Ludwig Wittgenstein... "The limits of my language means the limit of my world."

Think about that one for a minute. Have you ever tried to explain something to a toddler? At times, it can feel impossible because the scope of their language feels so small and limits how you can describe, explain, and teach them. Language has so much power over our way of understanding, our way of defining the world around us. That is why it is critical to start using the right words when tackling mental illness. There is so much power, so much freedom in language.

For example, I recently found myself wedged in the middle of a conflict between someone close to me and their parents. I like to think that I know the person quite well and am able to have open, genuine conversations with them. They know my story... they helped me find the confidence and vulnerability to share it with others. I know that they sometimes struggle with depression as well. We can talk about our good days and our bad days... mental illness is a conversation topic we do not shy away from. Yet the same cannot be said about my friend's relationship with their parents. The word 'depression' is somewhat taboo. Instead, they refer to feelings and behaviors as "moodiness".

I get it. Sometimes depression can manifest itself in ways that others may perceive as "being moody". Sometimes I describe myself as moody AF, a result of my lingering teenage angst coupled with a ongoing love for My Chemical Romance and Panic at the Disco. But reducing depression to simply moodiness creates a host of problems that can cause great harm to the sufferer. When people complain that someone is moody, they may tell them to change their attitude or (if you are a woman) they may ask you if it is 'that time of the month'. Depression is an illness, not an attitude choice. It can seriously impair daily life and should not simply be reduced to PMS or moodiness or having a gloomy outlook.

For when we use the wrong language, we transform the power to get better into stigma and shame. Instead of being able to seek help for a treatable mental illness, sufferers may become hard on themselves, feel embarrassment, and exacerbate an already difficult situation. As my professor once explained, language can limit our world... but it can also liberate us. Say its name- depression.

Goodbye, Armor.

Next week, I start the process of moving for the 2nd time since July... 9th time since 2008. By this point, I have mastered the art of moving to a new home- I know the best ways to package dishes, how to transition my cat to a new place, and the list goes on. This time is a little bit different though. This time, I am moving into the house that my fiance and I purchased together. There are a million things that I am freaking out about. This will be my first time with a roommate since college. We are buying a FREAKING HOUSE. We will have a mortgage and lawn and things to fix all on our own. I feel like I am able to jump into the ride of my life. I will write more about the process as we tackle each obstacle, starting today.

Today, I took on a massive challenge. Today, I downsized my closet.

I know, that sounds absolutely ridiculous. How can getting rid of clothes be so hard? Isn't that the most first-world, stereotypical woman thing you've ever heard? Let me explain...

Getting rid of clothes is impossibly hard for me. Over the last 10 years, I have worked so hard to keep an imagine- the girl that is well-dressed, pulled together, and perfect in every way. By wearing this armor of pretty clothes, I kept people from knowing my secret. By looking the part, I thought I could trick people into believing that I was okay... maybe, I could trick even myself. Clothes protected me from the stigma associated with mental illness. They disguised my depression. They fed my anxiety.

Now that I am on the road to becoming myself- the person I am choosing to be beyond the mental illness- I am ready to start leaving that armor behind. Staring at me from across the room are 7 boxes of clothes ready to find a new home. This time, they are no longer armor. They are just clothes. This is one little battle, but it feels amazing to win nonetheless.

What Chrissy Teigen Taught Me.

Recently, Chrissy Teigen- the glorious queen of clapbacks and Twitter gold standard comedy- shared her struggle with postpartum depression with the world and experienced something that so many people who share their stories about mental health face.... a change in the way people perceive and treat us.

When I first saw her tweet, I nearly fell out of my chair from clapping wildly and screaming "YASSS GIRL" like a madwoman. I kept my struggle with depression and anxiety a secret from the world for YEARS because I was so worried about how people would treat me differently. Turns out, this is not uncommon at all- even celebrities experience the stigma associated with mental illness- and may cause people to avoid seeking help.

Let's have a moment of real talk, here... the best thing that you can do for someone struggling with mental illness is ask them what they need from you. Then, shower them with all the love, understanding, support, and french fries that they may need. Tell your sympathies or pity to take a back seat, as that look in your eyes feels so draining and can bring forth shame. Not cool.

The stigma is so real, y'all. So how are you? Not how arrrrrre you.

Finding a Therapist.

Recently, I started sharing my story (and my phone number) with college students across the country as I have really started pursuing a new adventure as a college speaker. One of the things that always blows me away is how willing some people are to be vulnerable- if they are simply asked the right questions. Often times, I think we get so wrapped up in our own lives that we forget to stop and truly listen to the conversations that we have with others. One moment can change everything. So what happens when we stop, we listen, and we ask the right questions? Recently, I was at a conference with thousands of college students and had the chance to really be "in the moment". After facilitating a session, a young man approached me and told me his story. I listened, intently. I was surprised at what he told me. He was struggling to find himself- the person he wants to be- beyond depression. We exchanged numbers and I was thrilled to hear back from him the next day. His vulnerability was inspiring.

The conversation with the young man led to me sending him some of my favorite books on learning to love yourself. It also taught me that I had been missing a big part of asking the right questions. Whenever I speak to college students, I always ask "how are you, no really, how are you?" and tell them that it is okay not to be okay. The question that usually follows hours later via text message is "how do I do that?" Time and time again, I have found that the stigma of depression, counseling, mental illness can stop people from getting help, but there can sometimes be one other huge roadblock- they don't know how to seek help.

Seeing a counselor or therapist isn't what you see in the movies- no couches to lay on or ancient clipboards or ugly sweater-vests. It isn't necessarily prying into your childhood or digging into your subconscious. It is a conversation centered around seeking hope. You get to be the guide as you work together to find solutions to what you are feeling.

Finding a therapist is sometimes a process- you want to make sure that you have the same goals, are compatible, and you feel comfortable talking to them- but it is not difficult. If you are a college student, check to see if your school has a counseling center. If you are working through an insurance provider, see who they cover via their website. If you are seeking a child, adolescent, or young adult counselor, I suggest the American Association of Marriage and Family Therapy's "Locate A Therapist" database- that is actually the tool that I used to find my current doctor.

There are so many resources out there. What are some of the ones that you have used?

In Honor of Carrie.

Mental health is messy. It is not glamorous, it is not fun. It makes people uncomfortable, so much so that those who share their stories are often told that they are oversharing or coming across as entirely disordered. That's what made Carrie Fisher such an amazing woman- she is the epitome of bravery. In spite of the big Hollywood expectations that surrounded her, she allowed her true, messy self to be seen. She made it okay to share our stories. She gave a big middle finger to the stigma that is associated with mental illness and lived so courageously. She will always be an icon in American cinematic history, but what I truly hope she is remembered for is her mental health advocacy. "At times, being bipolar can be an all-consuming challenge, requiring a lot of stamina and even more courage, so if you’re living with this illness and functioning at all, it’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of.” -Carrie Fisher

In honor of Carrie, I will continue to be seen as messy- to share my story, authentically and vulnerably. Because I believe that one day, people who struggle with mental illness will no longer face stigma and instead, will be supported and loved during their pursuit of overcoming their illness. I will live like the Princess, like the General in order to help others.

Photo from the Huffington Post's amazing piece on the OG mental health hero.

Love in the Time of High-Functioning Anxiety.

Remember those moments (that we all have) where you think you are going to be forever alone or that no one would ever be crazy enough to want to marry you? Welcome to LITERALLY EVERY DAY OF MY LIFE… until recently.

Somehow, the most amazing, brilliant, hilarious, driven, romantic human being on earth fell in (or was tricked into- still up for debate) love with me and has asked me to be his wife. I’m engaged, y’all. His proposal was such a surprise, but not at all unexpected. In true crazy girlfriend fashion, I told him that I was going to marry him after we had dated for about 3 weeks. A little over a year later, I finally got to say “I told you so”.

With this joyous, exciting time comes a spike in anxiety… I am planning on moving to a new town, searching for the “next step” in my career, and wedding planning all at the same time. I wouldn’t change a thing about the last month but as I reflect back on it, I can’t help but laugh at the predictability of my actions as they have been dictated by my anxiety. On the day that we were engaged, I told my fiancé that I wanted to wait at least 2 weeks before starting wedding planning so that we could just enjoy being engaged. That lasted less than 2 days.

Within a month of getting engaged, we have our date, venue, colors, theme, vendors, and my wedding dress all lined up. Other than a few details, our wedding is about 70% planned and ready. This is the product of my high-functioning anxiety. When I start to get anxious, I feel the need to start attacking what is making me anxious in the most frenzied way possible. The idea of a wedding stresses me out, so what do I do? Do all of the planning as soon as possible.

Although this is AWESOME and I feel far less stressed, I can’t help but feel a small twinge of frustration. I wish I could take a step back and relax instead of taking this on this challenge like a rabid lion. Wouldn’t it be nice just to be engaged a little while? I guess we will find out now since I have so little left to plan. Take a back seat, anxiety. It’s time to chill and enjoy the simply being engaged to my best friend.

Who Were You Before Depression.

Who were you before depression? This is one of the most complex questions I have ever been asked. I don't remember when I started feeling this way. There was never a switch that was flipped, turning on the depression and anxiety- it has been present for as long as I can remember. I have always been a perfectionist... in the 1st grade, I had a complete meltdown because I received a B instead of an A on an interim report. But the anxiety that comes from the pursuit of perfection and the resulting depression when that ideal isn't obtained... I know it wasn't always there. It crept in slowly over time.

I do know when I was officially diagnosed, then re-diagnosed, and then re-diagnosed again. Who was I before the phrase "mental illness" entered my life? When I think back, I try to compare the person that I was when I walked into the doctors office to the person I was when I left.  She was the same person, albeit with more clarity and a tear-stained face. Putting a title to the feelings that I had felt for so long didn't change who I was or how I felt. It simply made it easier to overcome each day's challenges by giving me treatment options.

Who were you before depression? I was me- the same me that I am today.

Having a mental illness didn't change the person I am. Yes, it made me more resilient, reflective, compassionate, and kind; but, at my core, I am still the same person that I was before the feelings wiggled their way in and before my therapist stamped her diagnosis onto my chart. My depression doesn't define who I am. It is simply a part of my life... like an unwelcome relative who refuses to leave, even after Thanksgiving dinner is over. It hangs out, occasionally meddling in my affairs and asserting its position within my life. Yet it has no impact on WHO I am. I am the only one that gets to decide that.

Depression isn't who I am. I am a person, not an illness.

What Its Like to Have 'High-Functioning' Anxiety.

This video was shared with me this morning and speaks so deeply to my disorder. Every time someone tells me "you don't seem like you have anxiety" or "but you have your shit together so well", I get this weird mixed feeling of being relieved that no one can see through my mask and terrified that I am going to crack into a million pieces, revealing my secret.

My anxiety is real. It is devastating. It sometimes feels like it is going to kill me. This is the face of mental illness.

Defining Courage.

When I first started this project, I thought I knew what courage meant. Courage was something within us that grows as we face challenges and separates the weak from the strong. It was something that not all of us have. Sometimes we may be forced into it, sometimes it would come naturally. Boy, I  was DEFINITELY MISGUIDED.

Courage is not some abstract thing inside of us. It is a choice. After I starting sharing my story, I felt that I had finally found my courage. I had arrived. But even know, nine months after I first shared my secret life with a mental illness, I still get nervous about telling new people. I am constantly faced with a choice: be brave or be silent. It is because of the stories shared with me- other people waging secret battles- that I continue to find the inspiration to be brave.

Make the courageous choice- whatever that may be for you. You never know when your courage will inspire someone else. What would this world look like if we all made the courageous choice?

"May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears." - Nelson Mandela

Why I Want to Talk About My Mental Illness.

Whenever I bring up my mental illness, I usually get one of two reactions. More often than not, I am met with noticeable shifts in body language which signal uncomfortably and sympathetic glances that quickly melt into averted eye contact. In my experience, talking about mental illness can make people extremely uneasy- like it is a taboo subject that should be kept hidden in a box shoved to the back of a closet. This type of response will cause shame and embarrassment to rise in my chest... why does this piece of me make people feel so awkward? These feelings caused me to hide my disorder from the public for nearly 8 years. I felt like a liar, an impostor, a fake shell of a person. I felt unbearably alone in my struggle against depression and anxiety. This is why I often hold my breath when I first share my story with new people. I know that I will be met either with the aforementioned uncomfortably or a reaction that leads to a new connection, deeper and more meaningful than one can imagine. Suffering with mental illness can be so isolating, thus when one meets someone who is struggling with the same thing (or something similar), it can feel like a breath of fresh air. FINALLY- someone who I can talk to without feeling ashamed or judged. Ever since I started sharing my story, I have been blown away by the number of people who have reached out to share their own struggle and offer words of encouragement. I have been touched by the countless individuals who have sent a text or Facebook message to explain that they have been struggling to overcome their own feelings and want advice on how to seek professional help.

This is why I want to talk about my mental illness.

I want the stigma attached to mental illness to transform into support for those who are struggling. This idea that mental illness is something that we should keep hidden and those that are affected should suffer in silence is ridiculous. Approximately 1 in 5 adults experiences mental illness in a given year. THAT IS ALMOST 20% OF OUR FRIENDS, FAMILY MEMBERS, CO-WORKERS, NEIGHBORS. Instead of stigmatizing them, we should be supporting them. Instead of shunning mental illness, we should start conversations about it. Instead of hiding our struggles, we should be sharing our stories.

This is why I want to talk about my mental illness. I want people to know that it is okay to not be okay. I want people to know that you can live a full life, be successful, and have a chronic mental illness. I want to end the stigma associated with mental illness.  I want people to know that they are not alone and there are people who are so willing to help and support them. I want people to ask questions, learn about mental illness, and stop treating my depression/anxiety like a taboo subject.

So lets talk.

It's Okay to Not Be Okay.

Over the last couple of weeks, I have taken a hiatus. Friends, students, my blog, social media all took a backseat while I focused on the war raging in my mind. At first, I felt incredibly guilty about withdrawing from the world- like I was letting down the people around me by not giving my time and energy away. This is a feeling that I often struggle with, but have learned to manage. However, this time was very different. No matter what I did, I couldn't seem to pull myself together and turn to face the world again. I felt like a fraud, like a failure. How could I possibly call myself an advocate for mental wellness or promote the concept of "being unapologetically you" when I was stuck in a cycle of self-criticism and shame? I felt like an imposter, pretending to have everything together when, in actuality, I was crumbling inside. It took a very real conversation with one of my most beloved students- a conversation in which she became the teacher and I became the student- for me to realize that I had forgotten the single most important piece of advice that I can give to anyone struggling to find the light they need to push on in this crazy, difficult, overwhelming world...

It's okay to not be okay.

A little louder for the people in the back- IT'S OKAY TO NOT BE OKAY.

Every single one of us is fighting a battle, struggling to keep it together, simply going through some shit. There is no shame in that- it is a part of the human condition. It is easy to fall into the mindset that you must be perfect or at least appear perfect- this is my personal Achilles' Heel. But you will find that there is so much freedom in the moments that are messy and imperfect and real. Those are the moments in which we can be ourselves- unapologetically- with flaws and off days and problems and bad eyebrows. Because, regardless of what the little voice in your head tells you, it is okay to not be okay.

Now go out there and kick some ass. The second step to getting better (after you forgive yourself for being so hard on you) is remembering the brilliant reasons why you are on this earth. You are important, you are deserving, you are wonderful. It may not feel like that today- and that is perfectly okay- but trust me, you are worth it.

Technology & Depression.

As a stereotypical millennial, I can't image what it was like living 50 years ago... no phones, laptops, Fitbits, digital cameras, and the like. Every day, I keep a small tracker (a Spire) close to my heart- monitoring the rise and fall of my chest so that I know when I am starting to get anxious or forgetting to manipulate my breath with long, slow inhales and exhales. This tiny piece of technology helps me stay in control of my disorder. It is astounding what is available to help individuals manage their mental illness... meditation apps, mood tracking devices, and even something as silly as Pokemon Go. Although it is too soon to have significant data focused on the impact of AR games like Pokemon Go on disorders like depression or social anxiety, anecdotal evidence shows that there may be something positive happening. People who have struggle to leave their houses because of the overwhelming sense of fear, sadness, and anguish is too much, are forced to leave their houses and get into the sunshine- a key step in fighting depression. Groups of people are being brought together at Pokestops and gyms- something that someone with chronic anxiety may find hard to do without a little help.

Recently, my life was touched by the death of a student at the college that I work at. It ripped my heart open and crushed my spirit. I could not force the sadness away. My thought became obsessive over the life cut far too short. After a memorial service, I found myself barely able to breath as the air felt far too thick and heavy in my lungs. I decided to walk around campus to clear my mind. I stumbled upon a group of individuals sitting together, playing Pokemon Go. We chatted, laughed, cried, remembered, and cherished a simple moment of retreat from the world.

Later that evening, when I contemplated sharing my experience with the world of social media, I hesitated out of fear of the judgement that may come from revealing that I play the silly little game. Shame is a part of my daily life, as I am often so embarrassed that I have a mental illness. Yet, until then, I was never aware of the privilege that is an underlying piece of the dynamic in place between those who struggle with mental illness and those who do not.

"Get off your phone. Go experience life. Quit wasting your time with a game and go make some friends." What if, instead of judging, we starting listening? The reason I am on my phone is because I am texting the datemate to help me remain calm and avoid a panic attack. The reason I love playing Pokemon Go is that it motivates me to get out of bed and go outside- something my depression loves to stop me from doing. Maybe I am out making friends and using technology to facilitate that interaction as my social anxiety stops me from ever spontaneously starting a conversation.

Next time you feel like judging someone for relying on technology, check your privilege. It may be the only thing stopping them from falling apart. Each of us is fighting our own battle, be kind.

Birthday Inspiration.

Today is my 26th birthday. That is close to 9500 days on this earth. In that time, I have been to my own personal hell and back. I have failed and I have thrived. I have seen death and fought for life. Through it all, the one thing that I cling to like a newborn child to its mother is hope. Hope that things will get better, nothing will stop me from reaching my dreams, my life will be full of happiness despite my disorder, and I will be an active warrior in the fight to make this world a more wonderful place. If today was the last birthday you would ever have, what would you do? Give up and waste away those last precious 365 days? Or find hope that you can make a splash so big that the waves long outlast you? Hope seems kinda nice, doesn't it? Live everyday like it is another day towards your last birthday. Hope with all your heart. Let your light so shine.

Thanks for being a part of my birthday!

Motivation Monday.

What's the Plan, Stan?

Every plan starts the same way- by thinking of the best possible outcome and figuring out what it will take to get there. Start your plan. What does your land of sunshine and unicorns look like? You can do this. It is time to start.

Motivation Monday.

Know the Signs of Depression.

Know the signs. Seek help. Offer help. Let's get better, together.