It’s easy for people who don’t have major depression or a chemical depressive disorder to look objectively at a person’s life and point out all of the logical reasons why someone should not feel sad, angry, anxious, or any number of other emotions and emotional experiences that come with depression. But depression isn’t logical. Depression doesn’t care to reason, and certainly not to show mercy.

You can’t talk your way out of it, pray your way out of it, think your way out of it, spiritualize your way out of it… You can’t analyze, theorize, medicate, or meditate your way out of major depressive disorder. You can’t shop, travel, read, or even act your way out of it.

For those people reading this who are in my shoes, you get it. For those in my life who can’t grasp it, I’m sorry. I know that you can’t get it. I’m sorry that I’m sick. I’m sorry that I am not who you want me to be or who I want to be to/for you. For those reading this who don’t get it at all, I hope this helps your mindset.

Please try to remember that it’s a disorder, not a decision. You can’t fake your way through depression every day. You get tired. And when you get tired, and feeling especially tied up in the straightjacket of depression, you really don’t care who sees or doesn’t understand.

Then, you regret that, because they think it’s them. They try to make it about something it’s not, because you should know if you pray or get spiritual or meditate or walk outside or even “JUST TALK” TO THEM!! then you will suddenly be ok! Then, you REALLY hate being here. You REALLY feel misunderstood and unloved. You REALLY want a drink and you REALLY don’t wanna take your meds – because you just want to sleep.

You want to sleep forever. You can’t move. You don’t shower. You don’t even brush your teeth. All you manage to do is go ahead and swallow the pills and go ahead and feed your kid and fake your way through homeschool. So…

The cycle continues. Until one day you say, “f*** the cycle. F*** it. F*** other people. F*** how it looks. AGAIN. I’m going to just make it stop.

And then you don’t. AGAIN. Because of him, in my case. My son. Because you’re too filled with love. That’s right – people with depression still love. They still feel “positive” things. And most often, when they commit suicide, they do so because they love others and they truly believe that the world and their people are better off without them. I know that’s hard to understand. But, it’s the truth.

Why? Why do they think the world would be better off without them? Not because of depression itself. Because they’ve had to fight their depression alone, which is impossible. They believe they are a burden. They feel their depression is causing too many issues for other people.

They feel…. Unloved. Ignored. Unseen. Without worth to add anything good to the world. They don’t want to make the world a darker place because they love. But when they end their lives, and usually while they are still alive and it’s often what pushes them to the end, along with the depression itself, they are labeled with things like selfishness, negativity, cynicism, laziness, etc.

None of those things are true.

You can’t do it alone, and anyone who says they did or do or that you can is a liar. Even if it was influences from media that helped them (music, movies, speakers, writers. etc.), nobody survives depression alone – especially not the kind that wraps itself around you like a second skin and doesn’t let go, and can’t be peeled off, and hurts even to try to put clothes on and cover it for the day.

And that’s the only reason I’m still here.


I haven’t shared any of my music for a while, but, whelp, here’s a thing. Enjoy. All I can do right now is express the music (and the image edits) and that’s what this is. I may not have the words but I have the music. So far, I’ve always had the music.

The basis of this song is to end stigmas, to understand that those with mental illnesses need compassion and they need to be reached out to, not ignored or shunned or pushed away or further labeled, and saying goodbye to those labels.

There is some sort of problem with the video playing on mobile devices so if the video doesn’t work for you, you can listen to the song on SoundCloud as well as download it for free, for listening later.

I hope that YOU are doing well, and I hope that you get something out of this post that helps you better deal with or understand anyone in your life who struggles with depression.

All the love,

C. ❤️

**This song was mixed with Auxy using samples from Fanton ’87’s “Pay Phone.”

On the rainy days, I struggle the most. 

Rainy days are hard. I cry a lot on rainy days. I feel especially sad and lost on rainy days. I’m so tired. Tired of so much. Fake people. Nosy people. Lies. Loss. Sugar coating. Grief. Sadness. Tears. One bad thing, one hard thing, right after another. Never ending difficulty – physical, financial, emotional. No breaks. No relief. Just pain. Pain after pain after pain. And, ultimately, physically, no cure. No treatment. Just, “change your diet and you’ll feel better.” I won’t. I won’t feel better. Because changing my diet may bring relief to my body but I can’t imagine anything will ever bring true relief to my soul. Dead people don’t come back, and my soul will never not ache for her. 

Random rainy day self-loathing. It’s a bad day. Sorry, guys. My grandmama taught me if you don’t have something nice to say don’t say anything at all. But, well, I just needed to say all of that. Sometimes it’s too much to hold the pain in. To pretend you’re strong. To smile in the face of adversity and pretend it doesn’t hurt. Some say rainy days are the most cleansing. Maybe this is how the rainy days cleanse me. 

So, as I do on most ocassions when I can’t seem to get myself together, I went straight for my camera roll and reviewing/sorting my photography. As per usual, I came across things that soothed me. I came across things that moved me, that made me feel less wrong (is that even the right word?) for being so sad. I’m generally  pretty hard on myself about sucking it up and putting on the big girl panties and just pushing through, but today…I just needed gentleness. I needed to give myself permission to be whatever it was I felt like being. My soul was aching, and I needed to let that out. 

LUMIX gx7, 45-200 LUMIX lens, throwback to clear, purple skies. No filter. #rainydayblues.

I want to believe there’s a message in the stars. I want to believe that’s where you are. A tiny little dot of ancient light in the sky…is that where you went when you died? ✌️

There are some days, like today, when it all swallows me whole. And, I let it. I don’t fight it – not because I’m not strong enough but just because it feels better to give in. I just sink into it, and let it suffocate me. I hypervenilate through the memories and the tears. I try not to replay the nightmare parts but I can’t think of her without those parts, because that’s when she depended on me the most, and that’s when I was the most present with her. I miss her. I miss her so much… But, I don’t miss her being sick. I miss her, and my Dad. I miss Scrappy. I miss other friends… And on days like today it’s not the loneliness that gets me. It’s the permanence of the lack of their presence. That’s what gets me. They’re never coming back. I’ll never hear from them, or be able to speak to them, again. At least not until I’m dead – and I really don’t know what I believe about that anymore…

“It’s February 8. It’s raining. It’s not quite 11 months since you left us. Some days it feels like it happened five minutes ago. Today, it feels like it happened a million years ago. I listen to your voicemails so I don’t forget your voice. “Hey! It’s me. Call me AS SOON AS YOU GET THIS. Love you bye.” Sometimes you give me a hint what’s going on. Mostly, you just say that it’s you and I should call you asap and you love me. Those are my favorite ones – those are the most “you” ones. I miss you so much.

There is literally not a day that passes that I don’t think of you. Some days it’s all day long, like today. Some days, it’s randomly… But it’s every day. I’ll never not think of you. The stupidest things bring you to me, like Harvey’s Baptist Church. Ha. Sadly, it’s not even there anymore. But when I pass by, I still remember that sign and that moment…not to mention all the things that happened on the way. I wish there were better words than “I miss you,” but I miss you. So much.

I’m supposed to be writing this to say the things I’d say to you if you were here. Honestly, I wouldn’t say anything if you were here. I’d just hold you. I’d hold you really tight, and I’d just be quiet. If you were here I’d smile, and I’d just be near you, and I’d feel the warmth of your humanity and your presence, and I’d just be quiet and appreciate the gift of your existence, and that I got to have it mingle with my own. If you were here, I wouldn’t cry as much. I wouldn’t worry as much. I wouldn’t be as afraid. I don’t know why. I just know that those things are true.

What can I really write right now? I really fucking miss you. Some poetry, huh? I’m sorry I’m not more poetic now that you’re dead. It’s like…there’s really not any point. There’s simulatenously so much anger and so much sadness in me. I don’t KNOW how to express any of it most of the time – especially on these rainy days.


I love you, DB. For always…”

This little video clip is probably the most depressing yet cathartic thing I have ever posted. It won’t be to most anyone who watches it, but it is to me. It really does help me to write it out, to create things that either express or move my broken heart…

Many times, people tell me to stop. I can’t – I won’t – because it’s just what feels right for me. Never let anyone tell you to stop talking about them, stop bringing them up, let them go, get over it, or any of the things they may say to interfere with your grief. It’s YOURS. Your grief is your friend. No matter how long it’s been, you’re going to find yourself in moments of deep, excruciating grief, because that’s the reality of losing someone you love. 

You’re going to have days where you miss them more than you ever have, or perhaps ever thought you could. Nobody will ever understand, because nobody had the relationship that you had with the one you’ve lost. So you go ahead and do what you’ve gotta do, sweetheart. You go ahead and shed those tears and you go ahead and grieve. You go ahead and feel that emptiness in your soul. And don’t you ever forget that that hole inside of your soul now that they’re gone is worth every second, every breath, every laugh, every smile, every tear, and every memory that ever made them a part of your soul while they were here.

You are not alone. 🙏🏼💙❤️

And with that I bid adieu to you, friends. May tomorrow be better for us all…

Much love,


Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can. -Arthur Ashe 

That’s all I can do, at this point. 

Today I walked my mom to her mailbox with my grandmother’s walking cane. It was iffy. I was terrified. It was very strange to feel the same “fear” for her safety as I often feel for my son’s when I’m the “responsible adult in the room.” It’s very disorienting to have such a very clear role reversal. It’s been semi- like this for a while now, but at this point we have crossed that line very definitely. It’s no longer a sort of blurry line or a dotted line. It’s a very solid line and we have very realistically crossed it. 

Tomorrow I have a meeting with the home health nurse about getting PT out a couple of times a week and having a social worker assigned to the case to help me to make sure I have access to all the resources I need. My mother is gone. As tumultuous as our relationship has always been, I’m still really sad inside, which was unexpected. I don’t know who this woman is. Neither does she. 

I saw a side to my mom when my dad died that I’d never seen – I saw an independent, capable woman emerge, brave and strong and extremely adept. Within months I saw that woman begin to fade away. In the last year I have witnessed (and fought against) the slow decline that has led to this sudden, extreme decline we have been facing over the last month. And the only thing I can say with truth and with compassion is that for her sake, not my own, I hope that dementia is a swift journey for her, like cancer was for Dorie. Because even when you have very little of a good past with a person, this is a very difficult thing to witness. 

It is hard with Granny Dot. With my mom…it’s beyond that. Maybe it’s because it’s not just compassion, but the nitty gritty caregiving I am responsible for with her. I don’t know. I never really liked my mother (because she wasn’t and never has been “my mother,” though I suppose I’ve always loved her, if that makes sense) until now – and it’s because now I’m seeing the mother I always hoped she would become…and I’m seeing that mother, in me…