World Mental Health Day

For me, one of the best writing prompts around is the National Day Calendar. Whenever I feel like I have nothing left to write, this calendar gives me a whole new bucket to dive into and countless ideas for future posts. For instance, National Chocolate-Covered Pretzel Day was on Monday. I could go on and on about how chocolate-covered pretzels–specifically white chocolate-covered ones–are one of my favorite things. They made the perfect gift to bring to the hospital after I had my two children. While other friends and family brought cute stuffed animals and cheerful balloons, my sister delivered the goods.

Clearly, I still appreciate the gesture.

So, what does any of this have to do with the title of my post? It turns out that today is another important day to consider–World Mental Health Day. First celebrated in 1992, this day is dedicated to raising awareness and reducing the stigma around mental health issues. Millions of Americans suffer from depression, anxiety, and other conditions that can prevent them from living their best lives. In honor of this day, I want to do what I can to reduce that stigma by sharing my story.

Several years ago, I couldn’t get through the day without crying. I thought this was some sort of post-partum syndrome, but since the baby was over a year old, my doctor told me that wasn’t likely. She prescribed me an anti-depressant, and initially, I balked at the suggestion. No way could I be depressed. Sure, I was tired, and I felt I couldn’t handle much of anything at the time. And then, I was upset at how tired I was and how I avoided daily tasks because I wasn’t feeling up to it. And after being drained and upset for so long, people started to take notice.

It took me two weeks to fill the prescription. I stared at the life-changing piece of paper every day and wondered what it would mean to take it. Was it a sign of weakness or an easy way out? Did I really need it? Wouldn’t this all eventually work itself out?

Finally, I figured it could only help, and within three days, I was thinking much more clearly. I had more energy. My appetite returned. No more crying or lashing out. I realized my doctor was right. I was suffering from clinical depression.

Since that day, I’ve come to learn that depression isn’t something you can talk yourself out of feeling and “get over it.” Once I accepted that this was a situation beyond my control, I felt much better about getting help.

So, why can’t people get past depression? Because it’s a serotonin imbalance in the brain. It’s a physical condition that, in essence, causes sadness, anger, low energy, reduced appetite, etc. I’ve gone off and then back on medication. Recently, I decided staying on a low-dose is a wise move. I’m not embarrassed. There is no stigma, especially when my life is so much better than before. In the process, I’ve learned coping strategies with the help of an excellent therapist, and the medicine keeps everything else in balance. This is what is right for me, and I have no regrets.

On this important day, if you or someone you love is struggling with any of these issues and box of white chocolate-covered pretzels doesn’t do the trick, talk to your doctor, fill the prescription, and get your life back.

 

Word Nerd

How am I a word nerd? Let me count the ways:

First, I’m an avid reader, and when I stumble upon a word I don’t know; I’ll look it up. Thanks to the last few news cycles, I’ve recently learned the definition for quid pro quo.

Also, while some people listen to the Mega Hit Mix on Spotify, I listen to Grammar Girl’s Quick and Dirty Tips for Better Writing. Have you heard of it? She is amazing. Each podcast is a fascinating lesson in word choice, punctuation, and grammar.

I’m telling you it totally rocks!

(See what I mean — word nerd).

When I’m at work, I’m a total geek, but I’m also the go-to person for how to phrase something the right way. People have a lot of trouble with it, and I’m happy to trade off my linguistic skills in exchange for their budgeting expertise.

I ran into an issue the other day when scheduling a meeting. We wanted to meet bi-weekly, and after all these years, I’m still not sure if that means twice a week or every two weeks. Luckily, word nerds love to buy books that help us through these webs of miscommunication. One of my favorites at the moment is “How to Tell Fate from Destiny and Other Skillful Word Distinctions” by Charles Harrington Elster. This book is right up my alley. Elster explained that using the term “bi-weekly” is so confusing; one should consider taking the time to say that the meeting will occur twice a week.

As a writer, I believe choosing the right words is essential. Words evoke emotion. They inspire people and motivate them to take action. Taking the time to find the right word means the difference between the mundane and the extraordinary.

To sum up, word nerds should unite in the search for the perfect word, the right punctuation, and the proper grammar. If it weren’t for us, typos would rule the world. I don’t think I could live with that. 🙂

The One With Chloe

This is Chloe. Chloe is our toy poodle. Chloe needs a lot of attention today.

As if cleaning the house for company later this week, finishing four loads of laundry and completing grocery shopping/cooking for the week, Chloe needed–actually demanded–some quality time. I swear I’m not ignoring her; I have a lot to do–including an extra blog post today.

Earlier, we went for a leisurely walk around the neighborhood where I let her sniff every blade of grass for as long as she wanted. I didn’t tug at her leash. I didn’t bribe her with treats. I allowed her to take us wherever she pleased.

We’ve played tug of war with her favorite toy (pictured here). And each time, I toss her toy across the room, she fetches it and brings it right back to where I’m sitting as if to say–“we aren’t finished yet.” She even sat with me and watched Meet the Press without complaint so that she could hang out with me longer. She prefers to watch reruns of The Big Bang Theory.

When I went finally upstairs to sit down and write a much more interesting post, she and her toy followed me. And now she is at my ankles barking up at me for even more attention. I’ve decided to let her up on my bed to make herself comfortable, so I can write–which she did.

This is Chloe…not letting me write much more tonight.

I surrender.

 

 

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