Mental Health

Recently James Corden went on his show and addressed fat shaming. It hit really close to home. Here, take a gander at his monologue. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ax1U04c4gaw There is not a time in my life I can remember not being conditioned to be ashamed of any excess weight or pooch or thighs or myself. Many times, I truly believe that it was never with ill-intention. We are taught not only to be ashamed of our own body, but to also make sure no one else has our insecurities by shaming them into being better than us. If you're lost by the previous statement, it's because our convoluted thought that if we point out our own and others' fat, the fat will somehow disappear...

The first time I thought about suicide, I was in 7th grade. At the time, I had transitioned to a new school and didn’t have any friends. 7th grade is a tough year. As an aside, moms, check on your 7th graders. They are not ok. There’s no nice way to say it, but 7th graders are a$$holes. I dealt with my fair share of bullying and cried at home nearly everyday. I didn’t really understand suicide at that age, but  remember praying I would die. I needed an escape, and each day felt hopeless. The second time I thought about suicide was in high school. The bullying I endured in middle school taught me that you can do two...

Before I became a mom, I always had preconceived notions about moms, babies, and maternal relationships. When phrases such as "separation anxiety" arose, I had a general idea of the subject. Babies need their mom and it's natural given the nine months (give or take) of growth and bonding in the womb. Separation anxiety is defined as the fear or worry of being separated from a person or attachment figure or being. This term generally refers to the relationship of parents (usually the mother) and young children. So I eventually became a mom. Giving birth to my daughter released levels of vulnerability and strength I never knew existed. As she grew, I began to search and define my parenting style....

The day after I came home from the hospital with our first child, I lay in my bed crying uncontrollably, begging my mom to tell me how she could let us out of the house and let us out into the world. I wanted to stick my son in a bubble and never let him out. A few days later, I had a terrible panic attack when we had to leave the house to bring him to his first pediatrician’s appointment. Things only got worse. I didn't know it at the time, but this was the beginning of my postpartum anxiety. I know now that anxiety can manifest differently for everyone.  According to americanpregnancy.org, postpartum anxiety affects about 10% of all...

Dear My Thirties, First, let me just apologize. For my whole life leading up to this decade, I have been dreading this era. I vaguely remember a TV show called "Thirtysomething" that aired when I was younger, and I thought, "Geez, that's old." Those people looked like grown-ups. And in my youth, all grown-ups, from 20-something to 50-something, basically looked the same. It didn't help that when I was in my 20s, everything said about "Your Thirties" was always negative and in a daunting tone. Wrinkles. Vision problems. A hallmark year of aging and dread that would begin at just after 11:59 of my 29th year. I only now realize that I shouldn't have bought into all that crap. You deserved...