The perfect life 

These past few years I decided to be open about living with depression. Since then, my Facebook, my instagram, and my Snapchat, show me at my worst. And that’s my choice. 

I haven chosen to document what it’s like, what it looks like, how it feels, to be living with a mental illness. 

When I look at other’s social media, it often times makes me feel like I’m not doing enough. I know you should never compare yourself to others but god, when I’ve been working for two weeks straight and only getting five hours of sleep a night, it’s hard to not look at those who are on vacation and feel like I’m doing something wrong. 

So this is just a reminder, for you and I, that my social media isn’t  typical. I’m choosing to be open and show my worst, while others can only show their best. 

And maybe this is me reading in to it, in fact, I’m sure it is, but when I actually go out and do something, I don’t really document. I would rather be in the moment rather than on my phone.  Those who show it off, want to show it off. They want the likes and that’s all they care about.

So here’s to us. The ones who show the brutal truth. The ones who aren’t afraid to be less than perfect. 

You’re a stunner. You’re doing better than you think. 


What matters

I’ve always been large and I’ve always been bullied

I’ve been bullied specifically because others view me as unacceptable

the way clothes fit my body, the amount of space I take up is unacceptable

people would poke my protruding belly with sticks because it’s so hard to fathom that someone could have a belly that sticks out.

Everyone told me to ignore them and that I am more than a size.


But I’m not more than a size. I’m not more than a number. I’m constantly reminded that I am just a fat person.

I’m not a college graduate, an uber driver, a friend, a Coloradan.

I am just fat.

It’s hard when people stop thin girls with eating disorders while it’s encouraged with fat girls.

One year I lost about 50 pounds by hardly eating and burning at least 1200 calories at the gym everyday and all I got was praise on how good I looked.

And when I try to just eat healthy and exercise, nothing happens.

I’m constantly told I’m unhealthy, I’m going to die from strangers and family a like

so tell me how I am more than just a number when that is all I have ever been.

That’s how people see me, that’s how people describe me, that’s what rude strangers yell at me on the street.

And I’m supposed to not let that get to me.  I’m supposed to be more than that.


But most of the time, I don’t feel like I am. Most of the time I’m just the fat body I live in.


Today I found myself very very sad.

Usually when this happens, there is no reason. However, this  time there was a reason.  Since I knew the reason, I decided to find ways to distract myself.

I hope this helps someone else.

1. Call your boyfriend, friend, family member. 

My boyfriend is a really cool guy. He knows the struggles of depression and is always willing to call me when I get like this. Not only does he let me complain if I need to, he is amazing at getting me to think about other things.

While reaching out can be scary and really really difficult, it’s almost always rewarding.

2.  Funny Movies.

I have a depression movie list – Zoolander, Shaun of the Dead, Dirty Dancing, Easy A.

Dirty Dancing isn’t really a comedy it’s just my favorite movie ever. But seriously, put on a movie that you know makes you laugh.

shaun of the dead

3. YouTube

If movies aren’t really your thing, I highly suggest watching Jenna Marbles.

Favorite Video #1


Favorite Video # 2

This one is really sweet guys

4. Get out of the damn house

This is really hard, I know. I missed many classes because I just didn’t have energy. What I do, when I’m able, is to plan something yummy I want for dinner or something I want to bake. Cooking/baking can be very therapeutic. So, plan something out, and go to the store. Just leaving the house for a very little bit can be so very helpful.


And then you get cookies.


Adult coloring books are super popular right now. I’m impatient and they are usually too intricate for me so I often download free coloring pages and print them. I prefer Disney.

But this keeps your mind off your problems and it’s super relaxing


(here’s a free one I found for you guys).

6. Go to the water.

I’ve always loved being by the water. I could sit by a river for hours and just watch. If there is a lake, river, ocean, close to you, go to it. If not, a bath is also relaxing.

I think it’s very important for you to feel your emotions. Don’t hold back your tears, you’ll feel better to let it out.

But once you start feeling the dead, emptiness inside of you, I think you’re in need of a distraction.


And finally

7. Talk to me.

I will literally talk to anyone about anything. I’m here for you guys.



I still look for you.


It’s been a little under a year since I made the tough decision to cut you out of my life.

I’m sure you read my blogs, it just seems like something you’d do. So listen carefully.

Telling you that you made my life worse was the toughest decision I’ve made.

But you’ve broken my heart so many times before any boyfriend had the chance.

You made the heartache of a break up feel like nothing more than a stubbed toe, because I’ve had worse.

Because I’ve had my mother tell me I’m the reason she tried to kill herself when I was 13 years old.

Because I’ve been told that I fake my mental illness for attention.

Because I’ve been told that I don’t know how to handle my problems.

Because I’ve been told that I’m not good enough.

Because I’ve been told that everything you did to me, didn’t happen. That I’m a liar.

You’ve made me feel crazy. You’ve made me doubt myself. You’ve made me hate myself.

Despite how much you’ve hurt me.

I still look for you.

I look for you in every crowded place.

I look for you at every grocery store. And I hope I can catch a glimpse of you.

And I want you to search for me.

I want you to look for me in a crowded room.

Because that would mean that you cared.

And  I want you to care.

I so badly want you to care that I exist.

But realizing that you’ve blocked me on facebook, blocked me on your phone, I know you don’t care.

I’m a nuisance. I have called out how much you’ve hurt me and you can’t own up to it.

You won’t admit to the pain you’ve caused me and the pain you continue to cause me.

You tell your friends and coworkers and family that i’m a liar.

But I hope, deep in your heart, you know I’m not.

All I want is for you to admit to yourself and to me that you hurt me.

You shattered me and I had to build myself up.

You’ve broken me beyond repair but I found a way to keep going.



I just want you to know, even though you have destroyed me, I don’t hate you. I love you. I don’t like you. But I will always love you

Searching for purpose

mayday parade

For those of you who follow me on social media, you may have noticed I’m doing an unemployment countdown.

I think my need to quit started when I had an uber passenger who was a corporate something rather for big fast food chains. He told me, that as a manager, I should be making $40k a year, instead of my measly $14k. He gave me his contact information and told me to send out my resume and he’d help me get a better paying job.

As completely wonderful and kind and generous that man was, I don’t want to be a manager at a restaurant. I hate telling people what to do because all I’m ever met with is attitude. And I can’t take it.

After my encounter with him, I started overthinking everything, as I tend to do.

I’m not making enough money to make ends meet, I hate my job, my coworkers act like friends and take things I say and spread it around the store… Why am I here?

The second strike was asking for father’s day off months ago and not getting it. I told my dad I was upset, I have reason to believe my boss peaked over my shoulder and read my messages because she stood behind me for awhile, said something, and walked away. After that, she changed my schedule to have father’s day off, which means I would work 14 days in a row without a break, and she also cut my hours from 40 to roughly 29.

I was on my break at work, when I decided to see how much money I would make if I did uber full-time. If I made $50 a day, at a minimum, for two weeks, I’d make more than I do at my current job. And that was the final strike. Right after I did the math, I sent in my resignation letter, and felt the weight fall off my shoulders.

So, that’s why I’m quitting, kind of.

I recently graduated college, save one class, and I feel lost in this world. I’m sure this is a common 20-something-year-old-college-graduate problem, but I feel like I’m different.

Psychology and helping people is my passion, but I did so poorly in school. I couldn’t get into grad school if I paid them… I can’t get a job in my field…I don’t know how to fulfill my passion. Every job requires a Master’s, which I just can’t get, and god damn I hate school.


So. During my 20-something-year-old-college-graduate breakdown, I quit my job, to ideally find myself. Find why I’m here. Find what I’m good at.

So, on that note, 12 days until I’m unemployed, and I’m scared shitless.



Fifteen years later…

I was 8 when the abuse stopped. My dad rescued me from my living hell and I was finally reunited with my brother.

After 2 years of daily physical and emotional abuse from my step father, I was a different person.

I still am a different person. I have lived fifteen years without physical abuse and I still flinch when someone I love lifts their hand.

I still think everyone hates me.

I still think I’m too blame for the majority of life’s problems.

I can’t let things go. When people say hurtful things to me, I believe them. I cling to them no matter how many people tell me that their words are not true.

After two years in hell, the past fifteen years of my life have been affected.

I still notice the side effects– the leftovers from two years of abuse.

So I’m sorry I flinch when you move, or break down when you’re angry… it’s been lodged in my brain to prepare for the worst.

darkness, my old friend.

Are you really depressed if you don’t reference Simon and Garfunkle?

depression-death-skeleton-drawings-haenuli-shin-thumb640 (1)

In all seriousness, my depression came back seeking revenge for those few months I felt happy and alive.

I now feel that dark, empty void inside of me with the lingering question, “is any of this worth it?”

Is it?

The little voice inside my head tells me constantly how worthless I am.

And my lack of friends and hatred from my coworkers is just reaffirming.


There’s still a tiny glimmer of hope somewhere deep inside the darkness. There’s a little Samwise telling me it’s going to be okay and it’s just the ring doing this to me.

And I so badly wish there was an outside force doing this to me. but this self-destructive thinking is coming from me, created by me, and is destroying me.

I should have known my happiness was too good to be true.

It lasted too long, it was too good, I felt too alive.

So I’m back to being a stagnant person. A person with one foot in the grave, forever straddling the line of being alive and dead.

Depression is purgatory.