Mental Health

8 stories in this category.

It's Enough, Already

Fog blankets the soybean field every morning at sunrise.

Thank You, Dirt.

Alone with my thoughts. Alone too often? Maybe. My phone rings.

I Screwed Up...

I did. I’ll admit it. It’s been a month since I last published and it’s been eating the hell out of me. I lost track. Life got in the way, my focus shifted, and before I knew it, distraction and resistance had me in its nasty little grip. Old beliefs started to resurface. I felt locked in a room with a speaker blaring things like, “You’re not good enough,” and “Of course this happened to you.” This is the lie I told myself: “I should feel bad about doing something I enjoy because all of my atten

Public Life, Private Life, Secret Life

Recently, I’ve been obsessed with true crime—especially serial killers. They’re terrifyingly fascinating, and I’m addicted. I know, right? What is that!? I have trouble sleeping as it is, now, this? I’ll catch myself thinking of every relatable behavior the “behavioral psychologists” say portrays the typical characteristics of a serial killer and freak myself out. “Wait. What? Serial killers love to eat cereal? But I like cereal too! Oh God! Am I going to be a cereal killer!?” I run downstairs a

How Dogs Outrun Self-Doubt

Dogs age seven years every twelve months. If humans packed in seven years every twelve months, health insurance would skyrocket, but mental health issues like depression and anxiety, I think, would plummet. I know what you’re thinking — No way! Anxiety and depression would be higher than ever. Just thinking about my life at 7x the speed is giving me anxiety. I get it, I do. But before you grab your pitchforks and torches, hear me out.

In The Grout

Maybe it starts with the graffiti above the urinal in men's bathrooms. Suicide is never the answer, one read. Several tiles over… you are so loved. Somebody decided those words needed to be read so drastically, they were willing to spend, however long it takes, to scribble them in the grout. And I have a hunch it was a man. I read them no less than ten times. Then I pulled my phone out to snap a photo.

The Monkey Mind

I love cutting the grass. Dropping that Bad Bay Mower blade to 1.5 inches and giving the earth a haircut just makes me feel good. I love an impromptu Sunday nap and leaving the windows open during a thunderstorm. I didn’t remember that until now. It was an early evening in late March – 2018. Dirt was still a puppy and went to the beach. A kiteboarder walked past and asked, “Is that a Blue Heeler?” “Depends on the day,” I told him. “Sometimes he’s more velociraptor than Heeler.” He laughed. “My

Heels, Heelers & Healing

I can’t run anymore. At this point, I’m not even sure I remember how. It’s been so long since I’ve tried, I’m scared my bones would crumble like a pie crust. I’m the perfect friend to invite backpacking through bear country – you’ll certainly outrun me. In August 2011, I fell thirty feet from a deer stand when a frayed strap gave way. With no gymnastics or high-dive training, I still managed to stick the landing. In fact, it was so perfect my right heel bone didn’t see a use for it anymore and d