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There is a door. If you live with depression, you know the door. You know the hallway. You know the weight of wondering if it will open again. Sometimes the hardest part isn’t being behind the door. It’s walking past it — remembering. But today, the door was so small I could barely see it. Today I stood beside an eagle. I stood beside my friend, my eagle sister I stood in ceremony, newly a pipe carrier. I stood before children and told them: Stand firm in who you are. Be hon

My mother hated that word. Crap. She thought it was ugly. She wasn’t wrong. And that’s exactly why I want to start here—because this part of the story is ugly, uncomfortable, and real. I haven’t been feeling well. And because of that, I haven’t really been able to work. Not because I’m completely down and out every single day, but because the health issues I’m dealing with are wildly intermittent. I never quite know when they’re going to show up. Add in two to three doctor’s

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt an overwhelming urge to write like I do right now. At the end of January, I kept telling myself I should post something. Just to stay consistent. Just to say I had. Every day as the month crept closer to its end, the thought sat there: I need to write a blog post. And then February arrived. And now I feel compelled to write. So much has happened over the last few months—especially the last two—that a story has begun to take shape. One tha

Let’s just say it out loud: the holidays are a lot . There are expectations—spoken, unspoken, and aggressively marketed. There is the hustle and bustle, lists upon lists, and a strange sense that if you don’t do all  the things, you’re somehow “doing Christmas wrong.” The shopping, the cooking, the decorating, the scheduling, the concerts, the gatherings, the matching pajamas… it all adds up. Somewhere in the middle of it all, we forget what the meaning is—or we don’t even st