May is Mental Health Awareness Month. In honor of that recognition, I came across the following graphic on one of my favorite Instagram pages (shout out to @schoolpsychlife). As soon as I saw it, I shrugged it off thinking, “not *my* people.” Of course, I surround myself with awesome, aware, non-judgmental people who would equally
The following is a guest post from Laura Stott. Laura is a wife, mom to a seven-year-old and four-year-old, and a high school history teacher on the shoreline, where she also grew up. She loves being near the beach and the woods, and having deep roots, though she wishes all of her family were closer.
When my mother called, I wasn’t expecting her to tell me that the house had been rented out, and that she and my father were now in their respective, separate homes. Her diamond ring was still missing, her shelves still overflowing with religious pamphlets she had received in the mail, and she was
I am struggling. I have introduced you to my mom, Joyce. Mom lives in a long-term care facility with Multiple Sclerosis (M.S.). She is 70 years old, and no one knows how much time she has left with us, mostly because M.S. is unpredictable, and she’s outlived every prognosis ever given. She’s one tough cookie. If that wasn’t
Overwhelming sadness. Alone. Irritable. Ashamed. These are the words that come to mind when I think back to my struggle with postpartum depression three years ago. During those dark days I remember feeling so confused. I knew how lucky I was to have this beautiful baby, and how happy I should be, yet I began
