Mental Health: Valentine’s Posts Are a No From Me Dog

Saddle up for a series of hot takes. Yeehaw!

Social media! A journey of jealousy and curation, trendy filters and ever-changing lexicon, FOMO and even some JOMO. Variations of “remember, social media is just someone’s highlight reel!” have become a common refrain when considering’ profiles, and now manufactured vulnerability has become de riguer, much to ole Bummed Out Bailey’s chagrin… my culture of crippling anxiety and ideation is not costume, [hot influencer selling something via fake mental illness confessional].

Your moods can be soaring or plummeting while you post something in opposition. You can display energy while you’re exhausted, or take a sleeping selfie (???how) when you’re actually up and at ’em. Maybe these things end up being self-fulfilling! Except for the selfie taking while you’re sleeping, ’cause that sounds witchy. Maybe social media presentation is all an evolved take on the “fake it til you make it” mentality, but I suspect it’s still more of a manipulative tool or façade. Who knows.

So, something top of mind this past week in regards to social media are, naturally, Valentine’s posts. I’d like to even the playing fields here.

Dear people who are coupled up on Valentine’s,

Guys, what the hell? Stop it. Your lover is not shipped off to ‘Nam. Why are you gushing about your S.O. on a social media platform when A) you can just tell them how you feel in person or on the phone, which is more meaningful anyway, and B) it makes people who are lonely on V-Day feel worse? It’s weird. And it was like the more people posted love letters to their S.O.s, the more other people did until it was a deluge of saccharine. I like sugar, but… gag. I’m sneakin’ in some salt.
I post goofy tributes to Rick ’cause I crack myself up and also ’cause I know ain’t nobody wanna read about what we mean to each other except… each other. So, I talk about, like, Rick’s vest collection or how he complains about Sprinkles cupcakes icing to cake ratio being off.
It comes off as insecure to rave about your romance online, which may or may not be true IRL. Sometimes you just wanna publicly celebrate your person, I get it. But I know what it feels like to be lonely and scrolling through people’s love stories advertised all over the place on V-Day. It hurts, so be cognizant. And maybe take a romantic social media-less trip to ‘Nam together.

Love,
Bailey

Dear lonely people on Valentine’s,

Reminder: marriage or romantic partnership does not equal ever-lasting emancipation from loneliness. The loneliness inside of these relationships actually compounds when you feel isolated or misunderstood because, even though you have a person to alleviate those things in theory, we’re all fallible human beings in practice and fail each other sometimes. Whether or not you’ve been in a longterm partnership, this is important for all people to keep in mind.
If you’re wondering what the heck is going on, and where your relationship(s) went wrong, they didn’t. It’s just that no one is posting the miserable stuff on the internet.com.

Love,
It’s Still Me, Bailey

P.S. One of my favorite podcasts I listened to this week was Bad On Paper’s “Being Single Doesn’t Have to Suck!” episode. I love the women who host this pod.

Three months after Rick and I got married my boss moved to Abu Dhabi and I asked to follow him. I created a deck and pitched why I’d be great and how badly I wanted it. I reasoned that Rick and I would fly back and forth and see each other every six weeks, equaling one trip for each of us every three months. I had it mapped and Rick’s arm twisted. My boss called me up on a Sunday morning and said that he and his wife had been married for 30 years, so this was kind of a drop in the bucket for them, but that my and Rick’s marriage was so new (he’d been there to celebrate with us) that he was wary to condone such a vast separation. I was so bummed when it didn’t work out back then, but Rick and I laugh about it now. The hindsight idea of us being separated by a 13 hour flight when we were just beginning to establish the foundation of our home is, for us, preposterous, especially considering how rocky it all was for us in the first two years. Rick likes to laugh and say “Hey remember when we got married and then you immediately tried to move away to the Middle East?” It seriously could’ve been a quick nail in the marital coffin.

Anyway, while Rick and I have only been together 5-6 years, I can appreciate that it’s a beautiful thing for two people to choose each other over and over, every day. However, I can’t just get up and move to the Middle East because I feel like it anymore. On October 1, 2016 I committed to consulting and considering another person on all big choices for the rest of my life. Maybe I’d actually like to be shipped off to ‘Nam for a three month teaching adventure where I get a long weekend to fly over to Chiang Mai and snuggle an elephant, but I can’t just jet off into the sunset. And because Rick still thinks Linkedin is social media, I wouldn’t find a romantic Valentine’s post online, anyway, unless it was an allusion hidden in an article about ROI or how to scale product.

Whenever I see precious babies on social celebrating birthdays, family vacations to the beach with sandy Michelin-man buns, and matching Christmas PJs and the joy/terror of meeting Santa, I think about how nice that must be to have: a cozy home with children underfoot. But, in the same vein as marriage v. singledom, there are pros and cons, right? Longterm relationships, children – each one of these things is like a root that grows deeper, making it evermore challenging to uproot from the place you’re in geographically, professionally, etc. Sometimes I long for a little house with a yard and a derpy golden retriever and my own herb garden and a baby toddling around, but I try to recalibrate my thinking to remember that while there are wonderful things about that potential, there are also wonderful things about life without children (yet), if that’s something you desire. The same goes for life without a longterm partner (yet), again if that’s something you desire.

I think it’s so easy to look at someone else’s life online and feel as if you’re missing something fabulous. It’s not all creative baby announcements and promproposals, though (good golly so glad that didn’t exist when I was in high school. THE PRESSURE). Instead it’s staying up all night fighting, begging your S.O. to please not sleep on the couch, that you’ve got to work through it instead, no matter how long it takes or how exhausted we’ll be tomorrow. It’s not getting more than three consecutive hours of sleep for months on end due to a challenging baby schedule. It’s an inexplicable pit of despair or impatience with your partner cause they keep griping about someone stealing their socks and people driving with their brights on when no one is stealing their socks and not everyone they think has their brights on actually does. But, enough about Rick. It’s children you adore but who are driving you crazy with constant bickering. It’s parents with cancer or a lonely grandparent with Alzheimer’s. It’s car wrecks and missed trains and cold coffee and someone shoulder-checking you on the street and cruel words. It’s resenting your S.O. ’cause he’ll never understand what it’s like to have a dear brother experiencing homelessness and heroin addiction. It’s unfair. It’s also a thoughtful gift and a new friendship and a stiff cocktail and a loved one showing up to surprise you and fun bops on the radio and an exciting new career change and a gorgeous manicure that lasts a long time. It’s laughing at the bad times to make it through, it’s treasuring the good times when they come. It’s so, so many things, and I hate the limitations we put on ourselves when we compare the arbitrary bits we choose to feature on social media.

For years now we’ve been sanding down the bumps of social media unrest and what lies beneath those peaks and chasms. I think we know deep inside that everyone has their highs, lows, days when they feel bad about themselves, elated, gassed up, drained, inspired, decimated, anything. And the content doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with what’s really going on.

This actually brings me a sense of peace. Maybe that peace will be fleeting as we learn more and more about how we intertwine with the internet’s tendrils but, in this moment, remembering the fallible person behind the screen is freeing.

Free motto: Is my lover shipped off to ‘Nam?

Just kidding.

Kind of.


POST SCRIPT BONUS!

While I’m on a roll, here are more social media things that need to die:

– “my forever wedding date”
– “#blessed”
– “this man/this one”
– “I did a thing/we did a thing”
– “long hair don’t care” (good grief Nicki Minaj said this on the “Can’t Stop Won’t Stop” freestyle in 2007. 2007! Let’s find a new hair ref.)
– while on the subject, “can’t stop won’t stop”
– anything about tacos or Hocus Pocus, they’re the new PSL
– TBT/”throwin it back” to anything less than, like, five years ago

Wow, I feel so much better getting that off my chest.


Wednesday posts cover something that’s top of mind for me that week and are written in a short period of time. This means that editing is not strong. While it’s not my best work, it is my best, unfiltered thought.

More on Bummed Out Bailey:
Mental Health: Construct. Deconstruct? Reconstruct. Struct? Help.
Mental Health: Tired of Me
Mental Health: The Things We Carry


Do you love Bummed Out Bailey? Want to help keep it going? Support me on my Patreon. Your contribution means more to me than you’ll ever know!

To subscribe to Bummed Out Bailey by email, scroll all the way down to the bottom of the website and enter your info into the form. I can also be found on InstagramFacebook, and Twitter!

If you or someone you know needs help right now, please call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

Mental Health: Construct. Deconstruct? Reconstruct. Struct? Help.

I’m having a hard time structuring my life right now.

First of all, announcement! After two and a half years and most of our marriage living with my in-laws, Rick and I signed a lease for our own place starting March 1. We’re over the moon, or as Rick would say, “super jazzed.” However, our belongings are in storage, in the city, and intertwined with my in-laws’. Rick and I have cobbled together our home life for years now, and we’ve got to untangle it. Moving is a good time to purge, and of course moving in general is stressful. But, we’re moving! We. Are. Moving. :) It’s a magical place on the Upper West Side in a renovated town home. It was a working fireplace(!) and is a half block to Central Park(!). I walked in and immediately knew it had to be ours. I kinda won’t believe it is until move-in day. I’m so grateful. Meanwhile, our bank account is dry heaving.

Too much?

Anyway, enough gushing about Barbie Dream House. What is and should be top of mind for me is my thesis. I’ve begun piecing through all of my grad school notes kept both in my notebooks and in my phone notes. On floating post-it notes and book margins I’ve scribbled cryptic blurbs that pertain to my brother Alex’s story, our relationship, and the fabulous potpourri of mental illnesses in my family, and now I’m categorizing everything and creating a master list of big events and touching details to be pieced together in a can’t-put-downable book. (Self-affirmation.) I guess you can think of it as a book skeleton.

A huge part of writing, of course, is reading, and I’ve got a fat stack of books to study to inspire/inform my own work via similarities in genre or subject matter. I also need to keep up with exercise, post here on Bummed Out Bailey, manage the move, market Tidy B Organizing, submit my writing to publications, research agents, and start planning for work life post-grad, but more and more I’ve been wondering if I’m harming the progression of my book and usefulness of my thesis semester by cluttering my life with arguably unnecessary things, like posting in a blog I enjoy. I don’t want to press pause on Bummed Out Bailey because I made a commitment and want to stay with it. I want my word to mean something. But, at what cost? I need a cost-benefit analysis up in here. Up in here, up in here.

There’s no field guide to being a freelance creative, which is its inherent liberation and restriction. Some days that structural freedom is celebrated, and other days it leers at me and taunts. What’re you doing? You don’t deserve this. Why aren’t you doing more? What’s wrong with you? You’re not good enough. You’re a spoiled, navel-gazing brat from an affluent, privileged white family who gets to solely focus on their art during grad school while your peers turn out good work… and have JOBS! AND you don’t even have children to worry about!

But enough about me.

Basically I just sit around steeping in a pool of my own guilt that I’m not doing enough, which I constantly have to remind myself is untrue as I’m doing my very best. Depression is woven into this feeling of failure and inability to juggle. Out here hopin’ the Prozac is kickin’ up my seratonin levels enough. Come onnnn seratonin! You’re #1!

In the past 24 hours I got upset thinking about unchosen dogs while reading about a person’s experience walking through a pound. I worried my acupuncture office thinks I keep rescheduling because I’ve become xenophobic due to coronavirus and their feelings are hurt. I was in a rush and hung up on some kind person calling from Big Brothers Big Sisters cause I didn’t know what to say and kind of panicked. I’m like a giant turtle trundling along weighed down by barnacles of guilt and sadness that cling to me wherever I go. It’s fun to be me! At least I’ll soon have a magical apartment to sloth around inside of while in the depths of my unqualified guilt and shame!


Wednesday posts cover something that’s top of mind for me that week and are written in a short period of time. This means that editing is not strong. While it’s not my best work, it is my best, unfiltered thought.

More on Bummed Out Bailey:
Mental Health: Tired of Me
Mental Health: New Year Goal Mapping
Mental Health: Location, Location, Location


Do you love Bummed Out Bailey? Want to help keep it going? Support me on my Patreon. Your contribution means more to me than you’ll ever know!

To subscribe to Bummed Out Bailey by email, scroll all the way down to the bottom of the website and enter your info into the form. I can also be found on InstagramFacebook, and Twitter!

If you or someone you know needs help right now, please call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

Mental Health: Tired of Me

Sometimes, I feel bad for Rick. Because depression is nonsensical, I cannot put into words why I feel the way I do on blue days, and he’s just subject to whatever my brain serves up that day. He wants to help, and cannot, which makes him feel powerless. I want him to be able to help, but cannot connect solution to source. When there aren’t guaranteed steps to take to make my brain shift back to something at least tinged with joy, I feel like a racket. Then, I project my insecurity onto Rick, deciding for him that he’s tired of me and my wealth of issues. He brought a lot into our marriage, and sometimes I feel like I only brought bad stuff. I cannot understand why someone would want to stick around me for life. How exhausting. I don’t even want to stick around me for life. I’m exhausting. And exhausted.

At the tail end of a recent blue day I asked Rick, “Wait, is this why my parents say you’re the answer to their prayers? Cause you took me off their hands?” which cracked us both up. At that point I was starved for a smile.

I know I’m funny, or whatever, but then I think about the other things I am: controlling, bossy (in a bad way), uptight, orderly, sad, someone who sleeps for 12 hours regularly, picky. Basically anything that could be deemed exhausting, I am. My brother and I were talking the other day, and he was going through it that day, too. We agreed that there’s a tightrope we have to walk across every day. If we don’t have our meds, good sleep, quality food, alone time, and a work out we lose our balance and the whole dam breaks loose. Everything you’ve been keeping at bay floods in and you have to grab a life preserver. Sometimes that’s 13 straight hours of sleep. Sometimes it’s three stiff cocktails. Sometimes it’s eating a cheese board meant to share, even though your body doesn’t respond well to cheese… but enough about me. Sometimes it’s legal drugs, sometimes it’s illegal drugs. When you’re grasping to survive, unideal things bob up to the surface, something to grab for a moment to simply make it through. It’d be so, so easy to let that life preserver pass you by and accept your drowned fate. I think that’s what happens when people lose their battle with mental illness. They’re just too tired to grab onto that life preserver, if there even is one, because they know they’ll dip down, pop back up, and have to restart everything all over again.

Sometimes relationships get marred, and sometimes jobs are lost. Sometimes weight balloons, and sometimes loved ones are concerned because you don’t have it in you to answer a text or call. Lifting your head and squinting at a blinding phone screen taps your energy. The more you need to do something to move forward, the harder it becomes to do that one imperative thing. Whether it’s making that call you desperately need to make to a boss, friend, parent, sibling. Whether it’s getting on the yoga mat or elliptical because you know it’ll make you feel better. Whether it’s avoiding writing like the plague, or drafting posts for Bummed Out Bailey instead of piecing together and reworking my thesis and book proposal. The latter is the classic writer’s plight, I guess. But! It’s nonsense to want something so badly, for me it was to have these school years to write full time, and then when you’re gifted with this incredibly privileged opportunity you freeze. It’s infuriating. It’s exhausting.

Some days, I’m just tired of me.


Wednesday posts cover something that’s top of mind for me that week and are written in a short period of time. This means that editing is not strong. While it’s not my best work, it is my best, unfiltered thought.

More on Bummed Out Bailey:
Mental Health: Special
Mental Health: New Year Goal Mapping
Mental Health: Location, Location, Location


Do you love Bummed Out Bailey? Want to help keep it going? Support me on my Patreon. Your contribution means more to me than you’ll ever know!

To subscribe to Bummed Out Bailey by email, scroll all the way down to the bottom of the website and enter your info into the form. I can also be found on InstagramFacebook, and Twitter!

If you or someone you know needs help right now, please call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

Mental Health: New Year Goal Mapping

First of all, are you okay?! I know a lotta people drink to excess on New Year’s Eve, although of course ole Bummed Out Bailey isn’t condoning boozin’. ;) If you’re horizontal or, like, sort of propped up somewhere on a mountain of pillows like a limp, bleary-eyed Raggedy Ann* reading this on your phone or laptop, welcome. You belong here. Hello.

It’s strange to think it’s 2020 and, while I have no recollection of so many people being hype about the decade changing to 2010, wooo! New decade! Who are you? Why are you the way you are? What are you doing on this earth? Is this too deep for New Year’s Day?

Okay.

Let me dial it back a bit.

While we should be checking in with ourselves regularly throughout the year, the New Year is a common time to take stock of health, relationships, and quality of life. I don’t want to be prescriptive – the self check-ins can be on whatever you find to be a pillar in your life.

As 2019 came to a close I was racing to create a sustainable, yet maximally productive work calendar for January. Because I’m a writer and work from home (aside from Tidy B Organizing), there’s a lot of space for workflow to go awry, veer off course, and then wreck into a wall of general life admin and minutiae, AKA unpaid domestic labor and it’s invisible friend, emotional labor, among other things. I’ve found that, if you’re not disciplined with your time, it disappears and you have no idea where it went. I start some laundry and cook breakfast and answer emails and buy birthday cards and order flowers for a friend and go to my psychiatrist and call health insurance to sort out a bill and coordinate how to pay tuition online and do some yoga and file papers and order toilet paper and q-tips on Amazon, and, and, and… the day is over. “The day got away from me,” as they say. I’ve also found that, like a gas disseminates throughout a room and its particles expand to fill any size space, days are the same: If you’re not almost militant about your time, even a small list can fill your day the same way a big list would’ve with its necessitated, more tightly managed time. I hope that analogy makes sense. Science. I do not know how to science.

When I was active in Junior League, I was lucky to work with and get to know young people who’d rolled out of the NYC foster care system. We worked on all kinds of life skills like resumés, writing thank you notes, and how to (proverbially) balance a checkbook. There’s one session that stuck with me and taught me something, too: goal mapping. If you don’t know, goal mapping is essentially figuring out how to get from where you are, currently, to where you want to be, using short term goals (chewable bites) that propel you toward your end game. This can apply to any goals: professional, emotional, physical, personal, anything.

For instance, I want to publish a book about my family, centered around my brother, Alex, right? So, my goal starting place would be an unpublished writer, and goal finish line is to be a published book author. That’s a huge goal, and can feel insurmountable. However, if it’s broken up into real time action items, you can see and track your progress.

To publish a book I must structure my time in a way that prioritizes prolific writing. Then, I must be a diligent time keeper, and crank out, say, 500 words of quality writing on each “writing day.” Once I reach 100 pages, I can begin searching for an agent to represent me. I research agents, identify who I might work well with and who might be interested in my subject matter, then I begin shaping a proposal. I write and triple edit query letters to agents and attach the strongest 50 pages of my book (so far). I then create a spreadsheet to track every agent I’ve queried and when, so I know when is an appropriate time to follow up, and also track which queries have been rejected or unanswered. Supposing I get an agent, the first round of edits begins while I continue writing the rest of the book. The agent gives me feedback, and I edit accordingly. We go back and forth until we’re both satisfied with the content. Then, the agent begins shopping my book to editors at publishing houses. Once they’ve found a good match and I’m on board, the second round of edits begins, this time with the editor at the publishing house. Like the agent and I will have, the editor and I will go back and forth, too, again until all are satisfied. Then, the jacket design occurs, followed by printing and marketing. There is then perhaps a book tour, if applicable, and privately hosted book parties. Bam. PULITZER.

I’m not going to crank out my magnum opus prioritizing cleaning over writing over and over with the mindset of “Oh, I’ll get to writing [XY date].” I went to a writer’s conference in early December and one of the panelists said something in regards to writing that really resonated with me: don’t fetishize large chunks of time. If you have ten, fifteen minutes here and there, snag them and put them toward your goal, whatever it may be. While it’d be a blast if all goals could be accomplished in a cozy cabin in Vermont with nothing but solitude and time, it’s likely not gonna happen that way. I’ve been a huge perp of this and continue to be so, thinking “oh, well, the day got away from me so I guess I’ll just [something that’s not goal-oriented] now.”

I know that this is all dramatically compounded for parents, especially those of young children, and even more so for those who both parent and work a 9-5. For you, I recommend reading Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert or listening to her podcast “Magic Lessons.” She’s got a Delilah vibe while dishing out actionable inspiration items. I recommend Elizabeth Gilbert to anyone, but most especially those who feel trapped in a vicious cycle financially, professionally, emotionally, etc. She will pry and pop you right out of that rock and hard place.

Goal mapping is fairly turnkey in practice. One of the young people I worked with wanted to be an EMT. Now, go easy on me because I’m not as learned on EMTs as I am about writers, but take this process, for example: you are not an EMT, but you’d like to be one. In order to be one, you have to take courses, but in order to take courses, you have to test in to qualify. In order to test, you have to study. How long do you need to study? How many hours a day/week can you contribute to studying? Do you have to buy materials to study? Do you have money to study? Once these questions are answered, the mapping begins.

  1. Save money to buy materials to study for test
  2. Buy needed materials
  3. Draft achievable schedule for study hours
  4. Be diligent and stick to study schedule
  5. Take test until test is passed
  6. Begin courses

That’s not where becoming an EMT ends, of course, but do you see how I broke that part into chewable pieces? If you can check off one of those small items at a time, you’ll be making progress that you’ll actually be able to see. The steps can be as minuscule as you like. You know yourself best and what will or won’t overwhelm you, and the goal is success, right? If your map takes longer than another’s, it doesn’t matter. Progress is progress.

The same approach can work toward things like running a marathon, saving for a vacation, going to grad school, paying off a debt, even building a friendship. Although, if you’re using methodology to build a friendship maybe don’t tell that person, because then that person may think you’re a robot and ditch you. And if you get pegged as a robot, I don’t know how to goal map your way out of that. If you gave me some time to think about it, though…

Anyway.

We all have things that we want in life. Sometimes, when I’m walking around with my headphones on, I find myself visualizing personal ideals over and over. It’s inspiring to be able to see how to get there quite literally written out step by step. It makes something seemingly insurmountable seem achievable.

As the New Year begins, and resolutions have perhaps been milling about your brain, consider goal mapping. It not only might help you get to where you want to go, it also might alleviate the sense of failure regarding resolutions that’ve gone off the rails. If you blow whatever it is you’re trying to accomplish, you know where to start again. You’ve got a literal map!

In 2020 I’m going to finish my book manuscript. I graduate in May and will be getting a typical job after that, making it harder to focus on writing, so I plan to use the privilege of my writing-focused spring semester to crank out as much as possible with fiercely protected writing blocks of time and, as I mentioned before, stolen moments. I’m fashioning the schedule now, and look forward to following my map to completion.

Happy New Year to you, and happy goal mapping. I’d love to hear about what you’re mapping for 2020.

*Honestly, Raggedy Ann is the rudest name ever. Really, Edwardian guy? You couldn’t have come up with a nicer name? What was wrong with just Ann? Why you gotta make her raggedy?


Wednesday posts cover something that’s top of mind for me that week and are written in a short period of time. This means that editing is not strong. While it’s not my best work, it is my best, unfiltered thought.

More on Bummed Out Baker:
Mental Health: Becoming You (This is Not a Maxi Pad Commercial)
Mental Health: Finding the Glow
Mental Health: Productivity


Do you love Bummed Out Baker? Want to help keep it going? Support me on my Patreon. Your contribution means more to me than you’ll ever know!

To subscribe to Bummed Out Baker by email, scroll all the way down to the bottom of the website to find the form. Follow Instagram for behind-the-scenes panic attacks and my begrudging, meat-eating husband captured in the wild, Facebook for mental health articles and discussion, and Twitter for sassy or informative tweets.

If you or someone you know needs help right now, please call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

Mental Health: The Sad Clown: Part 3 (Final Installment)

This final installment of The Sad Clown makes me cringe. It’s dramatized, saccharine, and all of it’s true. There is some blood, and there are some guts. So, proceed accordingly. As always, thanks for being here.


After Ashley broke eleven bones at Alex’s hand when he drove them into three telephone poles, I painted her toes while she was immobilized in the hospital. By freshman year of college my nail polish collection had expanded beyond clear, and I used an iridescent purple, the same color as her candy painted Mustang GT that had just gotten ripped to pieces by the jaws of life to get my brother out of the driver seat. He was meant to be dead on arrival to the hospital, but he wasn’t ready to leave life yet. He had many more years of traumatic offerings for himself and his loved ones. “And many more.” It was like the classic birthday wish gone awry.

Alex’s femur was sticking out of his left thigh and his blood alcohol level was three times the legal limit. He was losing blood too fast. He’d knocked out the power to an old folks’ home and his helicopter chariot landed in their lawn to whisk him away. Awakened by the disturbance, old people began to shuffle outside, wind blowing their hair off their necks and foreheads as they saw a helicopter leave them to reconcile the remnants of the bloody, powerless disaster.

“Bailey, wait.” My dad grasped my shoulders, bracing me physically and emotionally for a disconcerting sight. “The way Alex looks is extremely upsetting. But, just remember, it’s your brother. It’s just your brother.”

It.

[read full piece here]

More on Bummed Out Baker:
Mental Health: The Sad Clown: Part 1
Mental Health: The Sad Clown: Part 2
Mental Health: Painting with Words


Do you love Bummed Out Baker? Want to help keep it going? Support here. Your contribution means more to me than you’ll ever know!

To subscribe to Bummed Out Baker by email, scroll all the way down to the bottom of the website to find the form. Follow Instagram for behind-the-scenes panic attacks and my begrudging, meat-eating husband captured in the wild, Facebook for mental health articles and discussion, and Twitter for sassy or informative tweets.

If you or someone you know needs help right now, please call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.