I have been in a massive debate for months because of COVID-19 about whether or not I should take my trip out to the west coast to see my family for my momma’s 60th birthday. My Europe trip has been canceled, I didn’t go on my NOLA trip, and traveling in general is highly discouraged right now... But this trip was a big deal: a surprise the family had been planning since last fall. So. I went. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I did. I wore my mask and gloves, and flew Delta (which

A few days ago I got a notification on my phone that my memory-cloud-data-whatever (can you tell I’m not tech savvy?) was nearly full. So, to make some space I started going through my old photos and deleting unimportant images. At first, seeing photos from the last year or so made me smile. It was a pleasant walk down memory lane: photos of my adorable twin nephews, good times with my friends last summer, beautiful shots from my birthday vacation last winter... However, when

For a long time, I hated hugs. As a child, I hated being instructed to hug adults I didn’t know, I hated classmates greeting me with air-hugs that felt forced and fake, but I also didn’t even feel comfortable hugging my own family and close friends. It took me a while to realize it was because physical touch had been used as a form of control when I was a young child. My stepfather would use his hand on my shoulder at church to hold me still, a captive at the pressure of his

Brittian's story of growth and recovery may make your heart hang heavy, but it should also make you raise your head high. She shares a story of trauma and heartbreak and yet has come through to the other side strengthened and full of determined self-love. I find her - and her stories - to be stunningly inspirational, a reminder that no matter the struggle, no matter the pain, there is hope and beauty in life. There is peace to be had, if only we take the time and do the work,

This post by Self-Love & Sexuality Coach, Arielle Dangelo, really resonates with me because, for a long time, I struggled with being angry at life... Mad at my mind that it was troubled and mad at the world that it did nothing to help me. It was many years before I realized that I needed to be honest with myself, humble myself - and seek help and support - in order to gain control of my life. Also, that I needed to join the mental health community and be available to support

I understand that the holidays are stressful for everyone. But something about the combo of groups of people, festive pressure, travel, expected conversation, and disjointed sadness when all was done, just killed me as a kid. Still troubles me now... I mean, really, for me the "holiday season" might as well be called "panic attack season" but at least now I'm aware enough to work through the stress and still enjoy family and friends rather than completely mentally/emotionally

May is national mental health awareness month. In honor of that, I want to share a bit more of my journey to mental health and stability. I first started having trouble with anxiety and depression in middle school. I would get so stressed out in class - most often about reading aloud - that I would sweat through the armpits of my shirts... and then spend the rest of the day refusing to raise my hands because I didn't want anyone to see my sweat stains. Social anxiety start

Why aren’t people inclined to be kind? What strain does it put on you to help the old lady at the grocery store put her bags in her car? Does it really hurt your budget so much to tip your server a dollar more than your first instinct suggests? Does is cost you anything to help your coworker out just a little more than might be expected of you? We run tired, we run short-tempered, we constantly are in a hurry, oblivious to our surroundings, and so focused on the future that w