mental health journalist
I ran around, arms outstretched, singing, “I’m flying” when I hosted an “end of the world” party in my backyard after graduating eighth grade. I invited boys who brought a bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey. A panic attack turned my giddy flights into drunken cries in Spanish. “Estoy muriendo,” I called out, depressed, angry, drunk….
My daughter flew three times across the stage tonight, and it reminded me of my middle school “flying” incident. My daughter and I arrived at the high school 25 minutes early. We parked and waited for the eighth-grade awards ceremony to begin. Neither one of us knew what awards would be given. “It doesn’t matter,…
The text came in as the water on the stove began to boil. I swiped away the timer set for five minutes from the lockscreen and read my daughter’s message. It was 12:48 p.m. on a school day. “I don’t wanna be here bruh” with an emoji of praying hands. “Come get my ahh I…
I killed myself four months ago. That is, I deleted my Facebook account and waited in purgatory for friends to text or notice I was gone. I disconnected permanently all the data associated with the profile I had created in 2007, the year I met my husband. That deceased account held in its memory the…
I was selected in 2021-22 to report on how schools are coping with students returning to in-person learning among an ongoing pandemic and rising reports of mental illness. The pandemic left many of us isolated and literally alone. Social distancing kept us communicating over social media and many of us suffer(ed) Zoom fatigue. I first…
I decided this morning to listen to Ugly Kid Joe’s “America’s Least Wanted.” The idea grew out of the music that is videos playlist, which is a collection of songs first introduced to me through video. Some of the songs I had been familiar with before seeing the artist’s music expressed visually. That has shifted…
I think I was 13 when I hosted an “end of the world” party with Jack Daniels drinks to celebrate summer vacation. I swear I don’t remember how we got the Tennessee Whiskey. Of course, I soaked my anxiety and brought a mixed drink of depression and teenage hormones to the party. I stirred alcohol…
There’s no going back, literally. Time machines are a worse idea than self-driving cars. But we can return to old ideas and revive ancient project ideas. “Let’s start a business!” I’ve said to more than a few people over more than a few years several times in my life. you don’t need someone to be…
Bon Jovi brings a flood of memories to my mind. I mean, the band had about a billion hit songs between my elementary and middle school years. I’m pretty sure four of the 10 songs on “Slippery When Wet” were incessantly played on the radio. Surely, you’ve heard “Livin’ on a Prayer” more than once….
My return to writing in journals was like a return to active drug addiction after a handful of relapses with my drug of choice: the pen. I grip the barrel of the pen tightly between my fingers, and press the ballpoint tip and empty the ink chamber. Music didn’t have everything to do with it;…