A few short weeks ago, I lived in Florida and dreamed of getting out. My husband was looking for a new job then, and on a whim, he applied for work in North Carolina. I remember it being my suggestion, but honestly, I never thought anything would come from it. Why would a prospective employer want somebody who lives 800 miles away? I crossed my fingers as he sent out his resume.

It’s no secret that I haven’t liked Florida for the past few years. I didn’t make a new friend in my city for the five years we lived…

I really hate surprises.

Since I suffer from bipolar disorder, I generally like things to stay the same. I do much better with a routine and knowing what’s going to happen next. Any wrench in that routine can cause tons of anxiety or even panic attacks. If somebody threw me a surprise party, I’d probably cry. All of these truths make what I’ve done now seem completely shocking.

I’ve been a resident of Florida since I was thirteen years old. My husband has been here his whole life. Next week, our family is moving from Florida to just outside of…

The seventh time I left my ex-husband, he locked me in our bathroom and then pinned me to a hardwood floor. All of the abuse I endured over the previous eight years had become more physical. I worried that if I didn’t leave that day, he might really hurt me. Once he let me go, I grabbed two garbage bags full of everything I owned and threw them in the trunk of my car. I drove away and never looked back.

There was only one person, Kelly, who offered to take me in. All the rest of my friends turned…

The first time I went through an actual depressive episode, I was only twelve years old. Nobody in those days talked about anxiety or depression or mood disorders. Ironically, my mother had just moved to another state after having a “nervous breakdown,” leaving me to stay with my father in a small apartment that was dark and smelled heavily of cigarettes.

As much as I adored my dad, he struggled to understand what was going on with me. He let me stay home from school during the depression as often as I wanted. He was trying to help and didn’t…

I’ve disappeared again on social media again because I haven’t written an article in more than two weeks. All of the self-help articles I read tell me I have to be consistent and write several times a week or every day. Believe me, I would love to do that, but my brain doesn’t always allow it. Instead, I’ve spent the last two weeks curled up on my couch crying and afraid to move. My mind is so full of junk that there is no room for new and original ideas.

The thing that keeps me going is that I know…

My mother was not one for subtlety. One time we were sitting on the couch, and she grabbed my twelve-year-old breast to see if it was growing. Another time, she asked me if I had “hair down there” yet. I ignored her questions. It embarrassed me that she would even ask. It also showed me how little she cared about my knowledge of my body and teaching me about sex. Left to my own devices, I taught myself what I thought I needed to know. …

Just about everybody knows somebody who has clinical depression. There are articles everywhere about how mental illness is a worse problem than ever before, especially in the aftermath of the pandemic. I also have depression that’s part of my bipolar disorder. It comes and goes in cycles as my moods swing up and down. Sometimes it leaves me flat on my back for weeks, but I never call anyone for help. Depression lies and tells me that nobody cares about me and that I’m a burden. When I believe it’s true, reaching out seems impossible.

As someone who has had…

I had a plan.

Even before my children were born, I thought I had everything settled. From reading every baby book on the market to buying every item I thought they needed, my home was ready for my kids long before they arrived. I also had bushels of a mom’s love to give them. My kids were never going to have to wonder if their mother loved them. I’d be a completely devoted parent who put my children first in everything.

I wanted to be the mom they came to when they were hurting, who always had time to listen…