Twilight Thursday: Twilight Chapter 6 or Why the hell is everyone with a vagina jealous of Bella?

We’re, give or take, 20% into the story. I have no further comment than that. Yet.


Now our heroine is sitting in her room reading Macbeth with rain pouring outside. The Shakespearean centric English major in me had to giggle. She might as well be reading Hamlet when it’s foggy outside. For those of you (poor souls) who are unfamiliar with either play, suffice to say that doom, gloom, and rain / airborne precipitation are in short order. Once again, we have to see how well read Bella is. At least this time she doesn’t make the snide comment that she’s reading it for fun.

The worst part about Friday was that, even though I knew he wasn’t going to be there, I still hoped. When I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica and Mike, I couldn’t keep from looking at his table, where Rosalie, Alice, and Jasper sat talking, heads close together. And I couldn’t stop the gloom that engulfed me as I realized I didn’t know how long I would have to wait before I saw him again.

Try Monday morning. That seems like a good start.

As they’re leaving the lunch room, Minor Character Number Four (or Five? I’ve lost count) questions why Bella isn’t sitting with Team Fangtasia. To which Bella replies:

I really didn’t know her well at all, certainly not well enough for her to dislike me – or so I thought.

Because she’s a set dressing, that’s why you don’t know her. Duh.

Once she’s home, Bella decides to bring up Edward’s little camping trip to her dad:

It’s not a very good place for camping.” He sounded surprised. “Too many bears. Most people go there during hunting season.”

And if you’re a vampire, it’s always hunting season. Just wait for duck season. Or rabbit season.

The day of their little jaunt to the beach, it’s sunny. Go Mother Nature. She arrives at the meeting point and all the girls are whispering and gossiping about here. I really don’t understand why. Unless they all have a raging crush on Edward of which the reader is heretofore unaware, I don’t get it. Bella has beaten us over the head with how klutzy and otherwise undesirable she is. Why on earth would the other girls feel at all threatened? Oh right, because Bella is our self deprecating protagonist and there has to be some lame attempt at conflict.

On the drive to the beach, Meyer treats us to a rather positive review of the landscape. It’s completely incongruous with Bella’s previous bitching and moaning. Apparently, a little Vitamin D does just the thing. They get to the beach and there’s two pages worth of Mike trying to flirt with Bella and Jessica giving Bella the stink eye.

I was completely absorbed, except for one small part of my mind that wondered what Edward was doing now, and trying to imagine what he would be saying if he were here with me.

The answers to your questions are “sleeping” and some snide comment about how he’s dangerous and not cut out to be a BFF. Also, your whole mind is small.

Drumroll please, we have now officially met Jacob.

My positive opinion of his looks was damaged by the first words out of his mouth.

“You’re Isabella Swan, aren’t you?”

In her mind, Bella is God. You are not allowed to speak her name as it is blasphemy. YOU ARE UNWORTHY!!!! Seriously, bitch, get over yourself. Jacob starts chatting her up:

He had a pleasant, husky voice.

I totally see what you did there.

Meyer tries to continue the girl on girl conflict. Minor Character Number Four (or Five) aka Lauren, apparently has a thing for Jacob & tries to pick a fight with Bella. The Plastics have NOTHING on this chick (Incidentally, a viewing of Mean Girls needs to happen in my near future). What’s problematic about Bella’s interpretation of Lauren’s behaviour is just that. It’s an interpretation. There’s no emotional investment on the part of the reader with the interactions between Bella and the other female characters. Meyer didn’t waste her time on fleshing out those relationships in favor of Bella mooning for pages on end. If she had established Lauren or Jessica or Random Minor Female Character Number Three, the antagonism would be more interesting. Instead, it reads as puzzling at best.

The topic changes in the direction of something vaguely resembling interesting.

I stared at the deep-voiced boy, taken aback, but he was looking away toward the dark forest behind us. He’d said that the Cullens don’t come here, but his tone implied something more – that they weren’t allowed; they were prohibited. His manner left a strange impression on me, and I tried to ignore it without success.

Wow, your Spidey Sense is really on point.

In the true spirit of emotional manipulation, Bella decides to extract further information from Jacob:

“Do you want to walk down to the beach with me? I asked, trying to imitate the way Edward had of looking up from underneath his eyelashes.

Yes, channel the creepy vampire face. That sure does bring all the boys to the yard.

More blah, blah, blah I’m a terrible flirt. Blah, blah, blah, he’s totally falling for it. Blah, blah, blah.

“Do you like scary stories?” he asked.

“I love them,” I enthused, making an effort to smolder at him.

Yes, please go ahead and light on fire.

Jacob tells the story of how vampires and werewolves came to a happy agreement to stay off each other’s turf. Of course, the master of the Cullen Clan engineered this 4 generations ago with Jacob’s family. Even better, the Cullens just welcomed two new ones into the family. Mazel tov.

But I really did like Jacob. He was someone I could easily be friends with.

Uh oh, here comes the friendzoning.

Then the puny humans are back off again thanks to the rain. At least we get a short break from Bella bitching about the precipitation. Being a weatherman in this part of the world must be stupid easy. And scene.

I’d like to point out that Jacob was introduced in this chapter & has already had a conversation with Bella. Yet the Cullens / Hales were introduced in the second chapter & none of them have spoken a word. Named characters are supposed to talk! If you don’t want them to talk, don’t bother with a name. If you’re trying to amp up tension until they speak, then save the name for when they decide to open their mouths. It must have just been too difficult to say “All those damn pale kids look the same! Except Edward. He’s totally hot. Err, cold. Whatever.”

We finally (FINALLY) get some kind of exposition. It took all of 4 pages to set up the whole plot. Vampires don’t like werewolves. Edward just so happens to be a vampire and Jacob is conveniently a werewolf. Why the hell did it take so long to get there? In case I haven’t beaten the dead horse enough, the pacing is driving me insane. It’s going like a George Romero style zombie pace rather than a vampiric pace. If vampires can move at the rate of virtual teleportation, then the plot should, too. I’m surprised the book hasn’t been trudging around behind me moaning “braaaaains”. What has taken Meyer over 100 pages to set up easily could have been done in half that time. In the spirit of full disclosure, I’m a very succinct writer. My biggest problem in college was getting the word count necessary for my papers. I could say in 300 words what the professor wanted in 500 words. That was with references and quotes necessary to support my argument. Excessively wordy prose is not my speed. If I were writing the book, I probably could have set up the whole thing in 30 pages. Am I really asking too much? If I am, please speak up. I appreciate honestly from my loyal readers.

Until next time!

Semicolon count: 8

Number of gummy bears I consumed during the creation of this post: Apocalyptic

XOXO!

Twilight Thursday: Twilight Chapter 5 or Are We There Yet?

…And we’re back! Did you miss me? I bet you did! Now that I think (*crosses fingers*), I have the draft / post issue resolved, this should go a bit more smoothly. Unlike the book.


 

Now that Bella is high on V (shit, wrong vampires), she waltzes into class late. But that’s totally cool because it’s English Lit and she already knows everything there is to know about that class. Duh.

Jessica babbled on and on about her dance plan – Lauren and Angela had asked the other boys and they were all going together – completely unaware of my inattention.

You know when your friend gets a new boy/girlfriend and they’re covered in new relationship smell? Bella has already hit that point and they aren’t even dating yet. Instead of making it look like Minor Characters You Really Aren’t Supposed To Care About 1-3 looking like the lovestruck ones, Bella comes across as the New Relationship Smell chick. No one likes *that* person. She keeps being *that* chick until Minor Character #1 (aka Jessica) slightly moves the plot along by observing that Edward is, once again, staring at her. Starting to get a little creepy there, buddy. As if we hadn’t hit a decent number on the Creep-O-Meter, he one ups himself:

Once he’d caught my eye, he raised one hand and motioned with his index finger for me to join him. As I stared in disbelief, he winked.

I have the mental image of him giving the really awkward over exaggerated wink that may or may not be followed by “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”. If only. Vampires are the sex gods of the supernatural world. However, Eddie here skipped seductive entirely and went straight to I’ll need to shower for days level of creepy. Less is more, Steph. Less is more.

“Does he mean you?” Jessica asked with insulting astonishment in her voice.

It’s already been determined that Edward may or may not have a thing for Bella. Bella has all the subtle grace of a shotgun blast in a SmartCar. How, exactly, is Bella inferring that Jessica (who we still aren’t supposed to care about, btw) is surprised to the point of being insulting? Because the world revolves around Bella. You’re welcome, readers, for the clarification.

She goes over to the table, they lack any kind of witty banter or plot advancement for 2 pages or so, then we hit that same tired old note.

“Well, we can try, I suppose. But I’m warning you now that I’m not a good friend for you.” Behind the smile, the warning was real.

“You say that a lot,” I noted…

One point for Bella’s keen observation. Yes, Edward, you’re dangerous. Can we move on please? Like how we’re 90 pages in and still no vampire reveal? Again, if you have to beat the reader over the head with it, you’re doing something wrong. Guess she slept through that class.

I do give points for the third superhero reference during the otherwise dull conversation. Though I’m reasonably certain the Biology teacher’s name wasn’t intentional.

He looked down and then glanced up at me through his long black lashes, his ocher eyes scorching. 

“Please,” he breathed, leaning toward me.

I blinked, my mind going blank. Holy crow, how did he do that?

I’m grateful I wasn’t drinking anything when I read the last line. It would have ended up going out my nose and / or choking me. The 1880s exclamation aside, how did he what? How did he lean? I would assume he leans just like everyone else. It would appear vampires lean differently. Must be all those years of squeezing into a coffin.

Also, boys and girls, “ocher” is the word of the day. Learn it, love it, use it.

It’s not even worth quoting the umpteenth time we’re reminded he’s dangerous. Blah, blah, dangerous, blah, blah, blah, can’t friendzone, blah, blah, what’s that smell?

Finally, things start to get a little interesting. It only took 95 pages. Bella heads to Biology after Edward informs her he’s ditching class again. I suppose one of the perks of being dead is you have this high school shit down pat. What are they doing in Biology, you might ask? Drawing blood! I literally yelled “What the fuck?” at the book. What the hell kind of high school allows students to prick their own fingers and try to blood type themselves? Allegedly, it’s for the upcoming blood drive because it’s super handy to know your blood type going in. Newsflash, the Red Cross does that for you! You don’t need a bunch of 17 year olds stabbing themselves to determine this. I’ll go along with her on the vampires. But I will not suspend my disbelief that any school district that doesn’t want to get sued into the next century would allow this.

Of course, our heroine swoons at the sight of blood. Oh wait, I *totally* get why Edward was ditching class. He knew there would be blood and that would make him a bit peckish. Getting the munchies in class is a bitch. After Bella almost barfs and Minor Character Number Two (aka Mike) half drags her to the nurse’s office, Edward swoops in.

“What’s wrong – is she hurt?” His voice was closer now, and he sounded upset. I wasn’t imagining it. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to die. Or, at the very least, not throw up.

Because vomiting and death are so closely related.

Suddenly, the sidewalk disappeared from beneath me. My eyes flew open in shock. Edward had scooped me up in his arms, as easily as if I weighed ten pounds instead of a hundred and ten.

And now it becomes clear why the Forks school district was bordering on negligent. It was so Edward could literally sweep Bella off her feet. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! Since she’s such a klutz, how is it that she even made it this far without slicing a body part? Nope, that’s conveniently ignored in favor of sweeping her off her goddamn feet. Now it’s my turn to vomit. Or die. Or both.

Edward arrives on his white steed to the nurse’s office carrying the fainting maiden. Bella explains that the smell of blood bothers her. Edward insists that people can’t smell blood. Yes, humans can, dickhead. Anyone who has ever popped an aggressive zit will attest to that one.

Mike comes back in with another fainter and they go back and forth about the beach trip. Edward smirks about how Mike hates him. Everyone hates you, Edward. Everyone. Bella suddenly remembers she has Gym after this more groaning ensues.

Fainting spells always exhausted me.

I find them strangely invigorating. Who knew?

Edward gets her out of Gym so they can have another asinine conversation while he drives her home. The only thing worth mentioning:

I began to realize we were driving very fast; the car moved so steadily, so evenly, though I didn’t feel the speed. Only the town flashing by gave it away.

Shiny Volvo go fast! Vroom! Vroom!

Then Meyer *has* to loop back around to the child raising the parent trope. Apparently, Bella’s mom is her best friend. Bella has to approve of her stepfather AND has to be the adult in the house. I refer back to Chapter 1 and my suggestion for the use of Forks.

“Do you think I could be scary?” He raised one eyebrow and the faint trace of a smile lightened his face.

I defer to this:

Okay, mostly just the “Ladies” part. You’re welcome.

Finally we hit the home stretch.

“Won’t I see you tomorrow?”

“No. Emmett and I are starting the weekend early.”

“What are you going to do?” A friend could ask that, right? I hoped the disappointment wasn’t too apparent in my voice.

“We’re going to be hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Ranier.”

I remembered Charlie saying that the Cullens went camping frequently.

Eh, camping, getting takeout, same diff.

Final semicolon count: 9

Number of times I screamed at the book and terrified either Boy or the cat: 3 each

XOXO!

Of black dogs and dirty blondes

No matter how much therapy you’ve had or healing you’ve experienced, there’s a little piece of darkness always lurking around in your head. I happen to call mine Hailey. I haven’t heard from her in a while. Recently, she decided to pop in again. Sometimes it’s due to an actual stress and sometimes it’s just because it’s a day ending in “y”.

It started with the nightmares. Two full days of every time I closed my eyes, I had a nightmare. They ranged from mildly disturbing to waking up sweating making sure that I still had all my teeth and / or limbs. Then I started craving a margarita. Even in my previous life, margaritas weren’t my thing. If I happened to be at a Mexican restaurant or it was a Cinco de Mayo party, then sure. Left to my own devices, it was vodka or wine without a second thought. I could brush both of those off fairly easily. Then came the real kicker.

I wanted another tattoo.

I’ve been retired, as it were, for almost exactly 4 years. I started my final tattoo on September 11, 2010. That was my phoenix, a fitting end to that particular part of my life. I could picture the hypothetical new one in great and gory detail. It was a black and white line work tattoo of the famous Alice in Wonderland illustration with the Cheshire Cat. Mind you, I was never an Alice in Wonderland fan. It was on the back of my left calf, taking up almost the entire space. I saw it exactly how it would look completely finished and fully healed. That’s what jarred me back into reality. I wanted to hurt myself again. She was there, waiting patiently for me to see her.

Fighting her is like fighting a Chinese finger trap. The more I struggle to get loose, the tighter her grip becomes. Instead of pitching a fit and trying to beat her back into the dark recesses of my head, I talked to her. She presents herself very simply. She offers things that seem like simple choices, but are deeply destructive. It’s under the guise of helping me get through whatever it is that’s troubling me. She promises the darkness is a good place. After all, don’t gems grow in caves? It’s easier to blend in the dark. In the light, every harsh detail is visible.  Isolating myself from things and people I truly love is for the best. They can’t hurt me if they can’t see me. I listened to all she had to say before offering my response. She presents herself as a false goddess, offering the impossibility of a quick fix.

There is no such thing as a quick fix. She’s eloquent, to be sure. The darkness has done its part to shape me like a gem. I respect those solid crystals for what they are. It’s easy to hide in caves. It’s easy to shut down again. I won’t argue that point at all. I refuse to give up the light I’ve worked so hard to see. It’s not hers to take. It’s easy to take something from someone who doesn’t care. After all, they won’t fight you for something that doesn’t matter. It’s harder to take away something that matters. Of course, if that something is left outside after the walls have gone back up, she can take it and wander off without me being any the wiser. I don’t like that game. I’ve never liked to share my toys. Just read my kindergarten report card. I refuse to let her take away my light along with the people and things that I love. The wall has to stay down so I can protect what’s rightfully mine. It took a strong shake to see what she had already taken. In pieces, I can begin to take those things back. She and I will always coexist, for better or worse, ’til death do us part. All it takes is one little hole, one little rip, for me to walk away.

And then I cried.

I may have set myself up to be hauled off to the looney bin by giving my depression a corporeal form. At least I would be in good company. JK Rowling created the Dementors. Winston Churchill had his black dog. I have a green tinged, gaunt, greasy haired blonde named Hailey. For us, at least, it’s easier to discuss depression as a physical being. It’s also easier to communicate it to others who don’t suffer depression. Show, don’t tell. Perhaps the beasts of depression should have their own twisted support group as well.

[Disclaimer: Yes, I have spoken to my therapist and I will be seeing her next week. No need to fear that your faithful author will do something rash.  As always , this is a solely anecdotal story. I am not a mental health professional qualified to give advice regarding depression. I'm just here to offer the little bit I've learned.]

XOXO!

Of clashing personalities and brief safety in sketchy locales

Good morning all. I hope all my American friends had a nice day off yesterday.

Yesterday wrapped up DragonCon. I’ve heard that it’s either the second largest comic book / fantasy / general all around nerd convention followed by ComicCon or third with New York’s convention taking second place. Either way, 65,000 people descend upon downtown Atlanta for 3 days for all things nerd. This is in addition to those who descend upon us for the Chick-fil-a SEC kickoff game. What a combination. It’s the only time of year where one can safely walk around downtown without being armed. But I digress…

What struck me this year was how the exact same set of circumstances could change so drastically with different personalities involved. Last year I had a great time. My room leads were fantastic and I got along with pretty much everyone who worked in the room. Four of us worked the entire convention in there. This year…not so much. The room leads didn’t work at all this year. As such, we had a new lead. She’d only worked smaller ballrooms before and had no co-lead, so she was in a bit over her head. The sound girl, who I worked with last year, stepped way out of line several times. She even yelled at a guest and the room lead. To put things in perspective, the room lead is the voice of God in that ballroom. One does not yell at the room lead. The room lead wasn’t confident enough to put the sound girl back in her place. The room lead also left several times to see other panels, leaving us with no leadership. I was scheduled in that room for the entire 3.5 days. After two 10 hour days in there, I requested a schedule change. Between a bunch of guests and panels I didn’t care about and the sound girl’s megalomania, I removed myself from the situation. It was better for everyone that way. Overall, I wasn’t happy with my experience. The volunteer coordinators send out a survey each year and that will give me the opportunity to point out the issues with both the sound girl and the room lead. For next year, I’m seriously considering if I want to simply buy a ticket and spend the weekend as a spectator rather than risk being stuck with people I may not get along with for 3 days. I have 364 days to decide. Let’s try not to put the cart before the horse.

On the positive side, I bought some new books. I love ink and paper. Boy also bought some new games for us to try. We played two of them last night. It’s always nice to have new games. One of the vendors had a stuffed Cthulhu. I would have gotten him, but he was a wee bit pricey. Perhaps next time. I’m taking today off to recover, then back to my regular routine tomorrow. I’ll be glad to get back to work. I can only handle a certain amount of time off before I get fidgety. There’s a lot to be said for routine. It also helps me remember what day of the week it is. *checks calendar* 

XOXO!

Motivational Monday: Family

I got the idea for this post in my travels over the past month.

I have one biological sibling, a sister, who is 4 years younger than I am. I have many more surrogate siblings, aunts, uncles, and even parents. Two weeks ago, I was visiting my best friend of 25 years for her daughter’s birthday. She considers me family and I consider her to be the same. I refer to her daughter as my niece even though we don’t (as far as I know) share a lick of DNA. It leads to a lot of confusion for those who don’t know know anything beyond the surface. I get a lot of “I didn’t know your sister had kids” or “Wait, is your sister even married?”. I visited both within the past 2 weeks. My sister up and moved to Minneapolis a little over 3 years ago. I’ve seen her in the flesh twice since then before this past weekend. We went to the Minnesota State Fair (I’ll be detoxing from fried food for days. Oy.), spent time with some of her co-workers, and took the culinary tour of her part of town. The older we get, the more similar we’ve become. We’ve passed the point where the age difference includes large developmental differences. There were several times we said the exact same thing at the exact same time to both our great amusements. I rarely get to see either of them in person and it was nice to get to see both in a short period.

Historically, the term “family” would include slaves or servants in the household in addition to parents, children, and any other blood relatives living in the house. Without getting into the politics of slavery or servitude, the term “family” serves as a relatively simple way to identify a household. It was also used to track inheritance of titles, lands, and other rights that may be conferred upon the death of a matriarch or patriarch. In my mind, families are fluid. You can create your own family in the traditional sense through getting married and / or having children. You can also put together a group of people you love and care for, regardless of origin. You can choose to leave out relatives you don’t get along with or flat out don’t like when describing your family. I know plenty of people, myself included, who leave out certain members of the family tree for any number of reasons. You can add members who aren’t immediate relatives.

Whoever they are, whatever their origins, take good care of your family. Don’t bother yourself with strange looks from others. Who you choose to call family is none of their business. That’s up to you and your family.

Motivational Tidbit Takeaway: Blood doesn’t always run thicker than water 

Of holding hands and making plans

This post all but bent my brain backwards. It was an absolutely fascinating read. It’s written by a gay, devout Mormon who is married to a woman. More than rethinking a traditional marriage, it made me rethink what it means to be gay, lesbian, or bisexual. Are you gay if, post puberty, you hold hands with someone of the same sex and they *aren’t* in danger of falling off a cliff? Are you gay if you, also post puberty, sleep in a bed with the someone of the same sex? Or are you gay simply because you’re sexually attracted to someone with the same equipment between their legs? If the first two are true, then slap my ass and call me a big ol’ lesbian. As for the third one, I’m of the opinion that *everyone* is more attractive with the addition of a fig leaf. ;) 

Back when I was first trying to figure out why I was self destructing, a male therapist I tried out asked me where I thought I fell on the Kinsey scale. It seemed like a completely out of left field question when I was in there for another issue. After I found a therapist I liked, she explained that survivors will often find a shift in their sexuality, either temporary or permanent, after their abuse. It could be eschewing everyone who is the same sex as your abuser. You could shut down completely and it doesn’t matter who is interested. It could be, as was my case, anything resembling a human being with a pulse was fair game. “Down there” was irrelevant. In the grand scheme of things, I did always lean more toward men than women even though my abuser was male.

Will was doing his level best to show his frat brothers that he wasn’t gay. I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned that before or not, but he caught a lot of flack from the house. I’m not 100% sure why. Nothing about him screamed “GAY!”. If I’m comparing him to my first boyfriend who did come out, he was a standard straight dude. Even though I could never prove it, he was asserting his masculinity by having a girlfriend who would dress in skimpy outfits and make out with other girls. I was his beard. It wouldn’t shock me at all if I found out he ultimately did identify as gay. There’s no value judgment there, just a statement. For all I know, I’m completely making this up in my head and it has absolutely no basis in reality. It’s just a gut feeling that has been hanging out there for a very long time. I could be looking for a reason when there isn’t one.

Tying into my last post about Robin Williams, my absolute favorite expression of love on film comes from The Birdcage. Nathan Lane’s character (Albert) has stormed off because their son doesn’t want him around when his fiancee’s uber conservative parents come to visit. Robin Williams’ character (Armand) goes after him and finds him at a bus stop. Without narrating the entire scene, Armand tells Albert that he wants to be buried next to him because Albert has always made him laugh and he wants to be able to laugh forever. He then presents Albert with a legal document making them equal partners in all aspects. I tear up every time I watch it. And it’s between two men. That, dear readers, is truly transcendent.

XOXO!

P.S. My dad’s second hip replacement went very well. He’s back home after less than 2 days. Cue a GIANT sigh of relief.

Of the lies we tell ourselves and not losing your way

Firstly, I know everyone realized Twilight Thursday didn’t appear this week. Life happens. It will resume next week. As I said, they can be very time consuming to write. It can take me up to a week to get the notes and quotes I want to include. I promise I haven’t abandoned it, but patience is a virtue. ;)

It would be disingenuous for me to avoid the topic of Robin Williams’ suicide. I’ve been there. I’ve been standing with a knife in my hand thinking how quickly it would all be over. There wouldn’t be a big show. I could die quietly in my apartment with no one the wiser. People I love very much have been there. I have lost one friend to suicide. While I could never prove it, I know that’s what happened. One of the last things she said to me was “the next time I use, I’ll die”. About a week later, I got the call. She was a heroin addict who had been self medicating her depression and bipolar disorder for a decade. While she was in jail, a friend of hers died from an overdose. When she found out, it wasn’t long after that she was gone. With him gone, in her mind, she had nothing else to live for. Robin Williams admittedly suffered in the same way, self medicating with cocaine. He got the hang of not using, but that clearly didn’t stop the depression.

The irony is once a person is on medication and starts to feel better, the more likely they are to kill themselves. They’ve actually worked up enough energy to follow through, but their brain hasn’t balanced out enough to know it’s still a very bad idea. Unlike most warning labels which go through a litany of petty side effects like dry mouth, it *is* important to watch someone more closely who has just started anti-depressants or anti-anxiety meds. This is doubly so in teenagers because their brains haven’t finished developing (does anyone’s?). When I was at my lowest, I didn’t have the energy to cry. I wanted to cry. I wanted to release everything stewing in my head. I couldn’t. Instead I would lie there accepting the numbness. There was a time I scoffed at the idea that feeling pain is better than feeling numb. Having been there, I now know better. Pain is a reminder that you’re still alive. I had someone watching me who was willing to help at a moment’s notice.

I am not a medical professional. I’m simply offering my thoughts and experiences. If you are suicidal, contact someone trained to help. The National Suicide Prevention hotline is the quickest and easiest way to get help. Most major areas will have a free or low cost clinic with medical services aimed at people with depression, anxiety, or suicidal thoughts. Call a friend or a family member to sit with you, come get you, and / or drive you to a hospital or clinic. There ARE people who care. There ARE people who love you. Don’t listen to the lies your brain is telling you. I know it’s easier said than done, but it’s worth it. Even if your accomplishment for the day is getting up, going to the bathroom, and getting back in bed, that’s something. You’re still here.

My thoughts and condolences are with the Willams family. There aren’t words to make it better. No amount of cards or flowers will ease the pain. Time will take the edge off, but it will be something they’ll carry with them forever.

XOXO!