Seven, Part III
Where I Am

Where I Almost Went

There's no nice or clever way to say any of this, so let's just get right down to it. 

On Saturday, June 2nd, 2018, I overdosed on a combination of Xanax, Ativan and alcohol.

It was not an accident.

You don't swallow a 90-day supply's worth of benzos by accident. You swallow them by handful after deliberate handful. 

It was far from the first time I contemplated doing just that, but it was the first time I decided to follow the dark thoughts down the rabbit hole. 

I don't actually remember any the following, but the facts appear to be:

  • After passing out on the bathroom floor for awhile, I somehow managed to make it down several flights of stairs to Jason, who was watching TV in the basement. 
  • After unsuccessfully trying to make me throw up, he called 911.
  • An ambulance took me to the ER, where I was intubated, restrained and deeply sedated. 
  • (I was also, according to my report, deeply "combative" and definitely nobody's favorite patient that night.)
  • I spent most of Sunday in the ICU, drifting in and out of consciousness. Usually just long enough to claw at the painful tube in my throat and then decide that nope, I do not like this dream, I shall go back to sleep now. 

I do remember waking up for good at some point on Monday. 

A few hours later, I was transferred to the hospital's inpatient psych ward. I spent the rest of a very surreal (and yet brutally, soberingly real) week there.

I am home now.

I am here now. 

And thank goodness, I'm here to stay. 




I read this, and then walked away before I could comment. Because I had to process how it's possible I could feel so much emotion over someone I've only met for a fleeting night at Blogher, when I was to afraid to actually say hit to you.

Anyway none of this is my business, but I'm going to make it my business and say some shit that may or may not be accurate for your situation but here we go.

A few years back I remember you got pretty fit. You had the tummy tuck around then. To us, your readers, that seemed to be one of your happier times. I've often wondered though, if after the tummy tuck, when you cooled down from fitness, if that is when your symptoms started. Here is why I ask. In 2012 I was in the depths of despair I wanted to take my own life. Not the first time, but the first time I really really felt like it made sense to do it. I could see all of the ways it would help. I spent 8-10 months trying ELEVEN DIFFERENT ANTIDEPRESSANTS. I was diagnosed bipolar, manic depressive, with borderline personality disorder. To top it off I was about 80 pounds over weight.

In 2013 I had enough of the meds. I somehow accidentally ended up in a gym, and holy shit, I felt better. Like the best I had ever felt in 31 years. I didn't know what was going on, but I liked it. I did some research and learned that legit exercise could in some cases be more effective than antidepressants. It produces the same chemicals in your brain that the meds do, and it wore your body the fuck out so when it was time to rest the crazy night time anxiety shut up because jesus I just spent an hour throwing weights around the gym and then ran three miles, no thanks anxiety I don't have time for you.

Why is any of this important? Because, in 2014 when I was in the actual best shape of my life, had lost 80 pounds, and was on top of the fucking world. I had a random unplanned abdominal surgery to remove and endometrioma tumor. I thought nothing of it, took the obligated 6-8 weeks off and rested. Then one day I found myself sitting downstairs in my chair, covered in Lays crumbs eating a pint of ice cream thinking, everyone in this house would be better with out me. I planned it all. The life insurance. The new wife my husband would meet, how much happier my kids would be, the relief my dad would feel at not having to pay my salary at work anymore, etc. Then I yelled at my kids for something and my son came to the landing of the stairs, looked me dead in the face and said, "mom why are you so mean now."

Well what the fuck. I look around, looked at my body covered in chips (I hadn't eaten chips in a year with my new healthy life style, and took stock of myself). This was NOT normal. This was normal the years prior, but 8 weeks ago, this was not normal. I had grown accustomed to fighting that gray spot in my head. When I would normally get comfortable in the sadness, curl up with a blanket and hibernate in the darkness, I had learned to run it out.

I called my mentor, the guy who threw me into the gym in the first place and said just that WHAT THE FUCK

He asked me a weird stupid question, "Shannon after your surgery did you just quit working out all together." I said yes. He told me to call my doctor, he said that quitting frequent habitual exercise was in essence the same as quitting an anti depressant cold turkey. I was shocked. Could this be accurate? So I called my doctor and he said, "the same way I'm not supposed to tell you, that yes taking all the herbs you took to lower your cholesterol was more effective than taking the prescription I tried to give you, I'm not supposed to tell you that yes, frequent exercise is often more effective for depression than medication. And someone knowing your insane gym background, and full life change (remember I lost 80 pounds just working out and eating right), should have told you YOU CANNOT JUST QUIT THE FUCKING GYM COLD TURKEY.

So. That day I went to the gym. My abdominal area made it hard to run, but I could elliptical as fuck, and I could do seated arm stuff, and I could do light weight leg curls, and I could smile.

I kept going back. It was hard. We found out I had gone back into a full blown clinical depression after that surgery, and anyone who is depressed knows that last thing you want to do is workout. But that little bit of me who had gotten better, the little bit of me who had stopped embracing the depression was still in there, and she found a way to go to the gym. I told my husband, I told my friends. I found workout parters and scheduled weeks in advance with them. I made a plan and stuck to that shit. I signed up for a tough mudder, and kicked its ass so bad, there are actually photos of me carrying my husband when his legs cramped.

A year later I had two back to back surgeries. Elbow and should 18 days apart. In my sling I took my ass to the gym. I did leg exercised 4 days a week. I rode the elliptical and arc trainer with one arm. I climbed hours and hours of stairs. BUT I DIDN'T GO BACK INTO DEPRESSION.

None of this may apply to you. Maybe none of us knew you were suffering during your burst of fitness, or maybe you weren't. But in the off chance that no one told you, fitness can save your fucking life, I'm telling you. In the off chance you noticed yourself sliding down the side of a mountain after your tummy tuck, you need to know you aren't alone and there was a chemical reason for it. In the off chance exercise helped you even an ounce I want you to consider going back. Hire a trainer. Hire a trainer who doesn't get paid unless you show up. Because when I was buried in blackness the only reason I went to the gym wasn't for ME, it was to make sure my trainer got paid. I can tell you though, that when I was lying on the floor of my gym sobbing to my trainer about everything that had happened to me, the shit I kept in, the shit that somehow just started falling out of the cracks during workouts, he let me cry. He let me cry, he blocked me from everyones view, and then he made me get back on the leg machine and do 3 more sets.

Maybe you aren't ready to hear any of this. Maybe it won't help. Maybe our problems are different. Or maybe, you carve out some time JUST FOR YOU, go to the gym, get some endorphins, and serotonin, and dopamine flooding into your brain, and you see the gray slip away, and let the sunlight shine in. It cannot hurt to try.

For those of you wondering, I had another surgery last year, a hip surgery. I was so terrified of that black cloud, I got off my crutches in two days (most people use crutches for 5 months). I walked a 5k 20 days later. I did as many upper body arm exercise as one person could do in a day, and I kept the black cloud in the back side of my brain. It tried to trickle in. I went from running 40 miles a month to no miles. I would't let it though. I learned to suck it up and use a sling bike. I used the stupid elliptical again, and I found my way.

It can be done. You can beat this. Whatever instinct made you run down stairs, is the same one that will help you beat this. Amy, for the sake of trying, go out today and go for a walk. Just you. No kids, no one else. Just Amy. Let the light shine in.


Oh my - I am so so glad you’re still here. Please, please stay. Hang in, hang in - this world is a better place with you here. You are loved by so many, near and far!!


Oh, Amy! No!!! I couldn't bear it. I love you, doll. All my prayers, wishes and hopes to you.


Words don’t seem sufficient. I keep typing, deleting, and typing and deleting. I am so, so sorry that you and your family just went through that. You have been so brave and candid to share your struggles with anxiety and depression. I had this weird uneasiness when you hadn’t updated in a while. Thank God you are still in the here and now. Take care of you. Just take care of you.


Amy, it breaks my heart that you are going through such a difficult time. I’ve been reading you for years and your posts always brighten my day. I hope all the love from your IRL and virtual friends help brighten your day a bit. Do what you need to do to feel better. We’re all out here rooting for you. Lots of love to you and your family. And thank you for your honesty. The world is a better place with you in it.


Another virtual stranger chiming in. So very glad you are still here with us. I've been reading you for more than a decade and just love your words. I've been in that dark place too many times. I'm glad you're back in the proverbial light. This all sounds like bullshit, but it's sincere. Much love, Amy. <3


I'm glad you're still here. Thank you for the valuable and wonderful and sometimes hilarious advice and anecdotes that you share. Thank you for living the life that brings us those stories. Hugs!


Amy. I’m so sorry you were feeling what it was you were feeling. You do not deserve that darkness and pain. It isn’t your fault and it isn’t fair and you are loved. We love you. We need you here. xo


I am just an internet stranger who has been reading your words for years. But let me say, I'm glad you're here, and you're not alone.


I saw your post on Instagram first and I still want to wish you love and light but I also want to tell you that I’m very happy you are here and that I think of you and the power of your words - and how they have shaped me - more often than I’ve ever told you and I’m very glad you’re still here. ❤️❤️❤️


Sending wishes for comfort and peace to you and your family. Hold on, hold on, hold on!


Oh dear. I am so sorry. Please don't go.


I am sorry you are suffering and had to go through all of this. I went through this exact same thing with my 14 year old son this past week. I am hopeful that we are doing everything we can for him, and I am hopeful you are doing everything you can for you.


Amy you are very loved and admired by many. I don't know if or how much that helps when you're in the grips of a terrible illness, but in case it helps I want to tell you. I have been a reader for years (pre-Noah?) and have nothing but respect and compassion for you, and for what you are going through. Thank you for sharing this very hard time with your readers. Your honesty and bravery may help someone you don't even know.


Sending you well wishes. You are so loved, and everyone wants you to stay.

Erin Miller

The darkness is so real. I'm glad you didn't succeed. Sending you love and good vibes.


Love to you, Amy. You've journeyed with me and with so many others through motherhood, and I'm so grateful for you. I am thinking of you and your beautiful family.


I've been reading your blog for a long time now but have never commented, but I just wanted to let you know that I'm really glad you're still here.


Echoing so many other friends and readers. I’ve never met you, but have adored you for so many years. You are talented, brave, loved, and so admired. Not only for your writing, but for your openness and honesty, your ethics, and your courage. You are so important to so many people.


I haven't commented on a blog in years--funny how I stopped doing that. But I am breaking that fast to say hi. Say something to you, I don't know what. Just that I hear you, that you matter, that I hope hope hope you get the help you need to get better. We are all in this together, and even though I don't know you IRL, I know that you are out there and you matter so very much. Inhale pink, exhale blue, as my mom used to say. Just breathe.


1-800-273-8255 - National Suicide Prevention Lifeline for anyone else who is believing the bad chemistry in their head that is telling them to end things.

lisa keegan

I am so glad you are ok. We all love you so much. Keep working on getting "better". <3

Kim too

Oh, Amy. I’m so grateful you made it down those stairs. You don’t owe any of us readers a damn thing, but oh, I’m so glad for all of us, but especially for your family, that you are still here. We love you, we love the family moments you share. I’m gutted that you got to that point. I’m blown away by the strength it took to come back, to find Jason, to tell us all about it. And im hoping, in some small way, that we can play a part in keeping you here.


All the way from the west coast - I am so very happy you are here. Please stay. For your boys and for YOU. You are worthy and wonderful.


I'm so desperately glad you're here, Amy. I wish you didn't have to deal with this illness and pain.


I am so unbelievably glad you're here. I have never commented before, but you have been, and continue to be, an inspiration for me. And so many others. Sending love from my corner of the internet - I can't wait to read your next dispatch, whenever you're ready.


I never comment, but I always read and thoroughly enjoy your posts and instagrams. You've been silent and I was thinking about you in the past few days, hoping everything was all right. Please know that I adore you and am praying for you and your family.


I'm glad you're still here. Wishing all of you good, affordable mental health care and healing.

(and in case Jason resists, please tell him he's gonna need some counseling too. Watching a loved one go through this is deeply traumatizing in its own right).


This post was so brave. I’m glad you’re still here with us. My son has some health issues which prevents us from doing the usual parenting things for normal-baby stuff (sleep problems, etc.) and the Amalah columns were the only thing that were remotely comforting. On behalf of all those moms desperately Googling for answers at 3 a.m., you made a huge difference to us, and it matters.


Long time reader who loves you and your family. You are not only loved, but the world needs you, your views, your words. You are enough. I’m so sorry things got so bad for you but am glad you’re getting help.


:( Glad you're still here.

Amy W

I’ve been following you for a lot of years and rarely comment... just want to say I’m glad you’re here to stay. Love to you.


Oh, Amy. I'm so glad you're still with us.


Hey, long time reader, please know we care about you and we’re glad you are still here. Your writings brighten my day all the time. You matter.


Thank you for sharing your story. I'm so glad you're here.


Glad you are still here. Hang in there


You influence more lives than you know. I have been reading your blog since Noah because I was pg with my first and you were one of the Mom bloggers who got me through it and all the years since (Nick is now 12). As you’ve grown your family into 3 kids, so did I (my twins are 8 now). I listened hard as you were going through trying to understand and diagnose and get/make accommodations for Noah because my son had some similar things going on and I felt a little less alone in the world of doctors and tests and IEPs. Your writing is funny and poignant and relevant to me and so many other moms still out here, still trying to find connections online to others going thru the same stuff even though the loss of Google Reader means I don’t get to follow blogs like I used to. It’s been a shit week for suicides with many folks knocked over by the loss of Spade and Bourdain. But losing you would be devastating to me. Keep fighting the good fight. I am really glad you are still here.


So glad you are here. Keep fighting.


So glad you are ok. I don't think I've ever commented before. A little over two years my daughter was born and my world felt turned upside down. I felt like I didn't know what I was doing and that I was all alone with it, even though I have friends who are moms, no one seemed to know or understand the weight of the crushing anxiety I felt like I didn't know what I was doing and my daughter would have been better without me. As I sat there for hours nursing I would read your blog and for whatever reason it felt like yes, people have done this baby thing before, and look how amazing these kiddos turn out. And that and your advice column helped me feel like I can do it. So - from this internet stranger, very glad you are ok.


Sending you so much love.


Sending love ❤️. I hope you and your family are getting all the help and support you need.

Sue W.

I am SO GLAD you are still here. Depression is a lying bitch of a mistress. We would all be poorer if you left us forever. You are very much loved. You will be in my good thoughts.


Sending so much love. I'm a longtime reader and lurker, I am so glad you are still here.


I am so sorry you are going through this! You have touched my life more than you know, brought me joy and comfort and support here and on the smack down. You are a light in this world. There are so many people out here rooting for you!! We love you!!


Amy! Thank you for your honesty and so happy to hear you're still here. I'm a lurker and have never commented, but I've read your blog for at least 10 years. I look forward to hearing about your life in every post and can't imagine a world without you. Sending you so many love and hugs and wish I knew you in real life.


So very grateful you wrote this. So many people who suffer with depression and mental illness of any kind are still so often shamed in our society, so those willing to bravely shed a light on the subject help so many countless others.
Thank you. And I'm thankful you are still here.
Not to disparage at all anything that has been written in the comments, but I really appreciated something Jonniker tweeted about how to speak to people about this subject: "I know a little about what that feels like. Choose your words carefully. It is not simple. It is never simple. It is not always about being loved or mattering to people or having a family or or or."


Thanking your lizard brain will to live that you crawled down several flights of stairs to help. You are loved and would be missed, I promise. Sending you lots of hugs and love from Chicago.

Also, a huge thank you for speaking up about it.


I'm so glad you're still here! Love to you and your family.

Elaine C. B.

I commented earlier, but wanted to come back around and send some love to all of your menfolk, too.


I've been reading you for about 7 years, and I'm glad you're still here. Best wishes.

Cathy West

I’ve been reading you for ages but have only commented a couple of times. I lost my only brother to suicide. You might think that would give me a special insight into what you’re going through but for people like me who don’t battle depression, it’s something I’ll never understand. I can only tell you that for those left behind, the pain of loss is overwhelming and never-ending. Please keep fighting. I do believe in the power of prayer and you will be in mine - for your strength and health and victory over this darkness.


My dad killed himself four months ago. I am so, so glad that you made it downstairs. All the love and healing wishes <3


I found your blog a million years ago when I was googling pregnancy contractions timer. I've been a faithful reader ever since and though I don't comment much I have to tell you how much your blog means to me - you're willingness to share the awesome and crappy parts of marriage and raising a family always resonate. My husband has chronic depression and I likewise appreciate your honestly about the awfulness of the disease. I am so sorry to hear what's been going on. We went through something similar a few years ago and as awful as it was, it to some extent represented a turning point from which things got better. Not better 100 percent at once but better and stable over time. I sincerely hope you find the right combination of drugs and therapy to make life better. So many people care about you and no doubt wish the same.

Janet Newhall

Amy, I'm so proud of you for finding Jason. Your spirit is strong and alive and beautiful under that giant black cloud. Your doctors will find the right medicines to help you, and your children have strong beautiful spirits, too, so don't worry too much about them. You are loved, you deserve love, and you are capable of massive love even if you have cracks and even if you break. Depression lies.


You are so incredibly brave to share this. Thank you for getting help. Thank you for talking about it.

Wishing you peace as you fight the dark.


I am so glad you’re still here and hope you beat down the filthy, lying beast that depression is and stay with us for a good long while. Thank you for sharing your story.


That is scary shit. I have no idea what might help, but I am glad you are back home and that you are here. Thank you so much for your honesty. You are a great writer and from what I can tell from your writing, a great wife and mother. Lots of hugs and healing thoughts for you.


Please stay with us. This stranger loves you.


I'm really glad you're still here, and had the strength to fight like you did. Keep going.


I'm glad you're here.


Chiming in over here, too, to reiterate that I love you. We all do. So many times we do not get the opportunity to let someone know how much we care. I’m so glad we all get to tell you now and that you are here to hear it. ❤️❤️❤️

Amie Preston

OMG Amy. I am sitting here at work with tears streaming down my face for a woman I have never met, but feel like I have known for years through your blog. I can't begin to understand depression, and for that I am thankful, but I am so sorry that you can and do and feel so bad. I am so glad you are still here, and hope you can find the help you need. You are loved.

Brenda Small

Sending love through my tears.


That dark passenger likes to take the wheel sometimes,, doesn't it? Thank you for turning back around. Your adoring public needs you, lady.


I am so glad you're still here. Echoing what others have said, but I have followed you since I was in college and you and your family are important to me.

To play off of that Lin-Manuel Miranda tweet that everyone's retweeted, I hope you feel all the strings people IRL and through the internet are tying to your heart because we care so damn much about you.


We don't know each other in real life, but I've been a reader for years. Your life and the lives of your family matter to me. I am so thankful that you are still here. Thank you for sharing what must have been a hard post to write and put out there. You are courageous. Keep fighting. I am cheering you on from my own corner of the internet.


Holding on to you so tightly. Please don't leave us. Please know that you are loved and needed and so very very very valued.


Thank you for sharing. You are so loved and so brave for moving forward in this world that can be so blindingly bright and also scary and dark. I wish you and your family all the love and strength and hugs in the world as you take the next steps in this journey together. xoxo


I am so sorry for your pain, and so glad you are still here. You are a treasure, Amy. Your writing, your humor, and your wisdom have carried me (and so many others, clearly) through many challenging days of parenting over the years. You truly make the world a better place. Sending you so much love.


internet stranger, i'm so happy you're home and okay. thank you for everything you've shared with us over the years. don't listen to the shadows, we need your beautiful, bright light.


Sending love, hugs, and light your way. I’m so sorry you are struggling and hope you continue to feel better. I’m still a good listener if you ever want to reach out.


I don't know what to say, but feel it is important to say something. You are loved. So loved. The thoughts that say the world would be fine/better without you are total lies. Thank you for getting help and please continue to do so. Thank for you for treating your illness. It's an important example.


I've read you and admired you -- as a writer and a woman -- for years. Your entries about your dad's illness and death and your grieving process helped me so much when I lost my own dad. I hope you know how many people love you, some of us whom you have never met.


I don't have anything profound to say, but I care for you. You matter to me. Your blunt honesty about the challenges of parenting, especially as a fellow spectrum parent, has been enormously encouraging to me over the years.

And God, depression lies. It's a lying liar. You matter. And no one would be better off if you were gone. Stay.


So glad you are here. We are out here and we care!


I know you grew up in church, but strayed... I don't know what exactly, your beliefs are at this point, but I know that, without the strength from God, I would not have made it through some of the darkest times in my life. I'm not going to say trust in God and your depression will be healed or anything trite like that - because it won't. But, He can help give you an inner strength to take it day-by-day when your strength alone isn't enough.


You have posted a lot of things that have helped people, and this post may be the most important yet. It is very brave, and is sure to be of value for many people. Feel better soon and be patient with yourself as you get to that point.


I’ve been lurking since before Noah was born and I know I am a complete internet stranger but this is bringing me out to actually comment, even though I don’t really know what to actually say, except that I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you are staying.


There's an outpouring of love and support here that is entirely deserved. It's also very tempting, for anyone who is struggling. When I tried to commit suicide 15 years ago, it's exactly what I was looking for. If it worked, I'd take all that love posthumously, which somehow in my depressed mind I thought would be better than nothing, and if it didn't worked, everyone would finally see how much I'd been struggling, and come wrap me in a cozy cocoon and fix my life for me.

What I actually got was a lot of very angry, hurt people, who had already seen I was struggling and were already doing their best to help me. It took many years to repair some of those relationships. My best friend needed to protect herself from watching me self-destruct, and so she stopped talking to me for a year. That was actually the kick in the pants I needed--not that you can bootstraps your way out of depression through willpower and good moral fiber, but it gave me the motivation to get help and put the work in to manage my condition, just like you'd have to manage any complex chronic health problem.

I share this not to take anything away from the bravery of Amy's sharing her story, or for affirmation (I'm feeling great this decade, woot). I just don't want anyone to read this and be seduced by the same fantasy I had in my mind, because I know it's tempting but so so not worth it.

Amy Lee

I am so glad you are here. <3


As someone who has also followed you for many years, I am so very glad you are still here. Love and good thoughts to you and your entire family.


Oh Amy. I am sorry you have been hurting. I am so angry that depression lied to you so convincingly. It lied, it lies. Being here is better than not-being. You ARE loved and needed.

Back when my daughter was born (she is 8) I spent a lot of time on twitter and blogs, you, Catherine, Tanis and Heather were my lifeline. I didn't like to be all clingy cause all y'all were famous and had lots of people vying for your attention, but your "company" carried me through that time mentally and socially.

I was physically (thus socially) isolated, and in a rough financial situation, and you, Amy, were my entertainment and mentor during that time. It was your alphamom blog posts that got me started reading mom blogs in the first place, because I read them and thought "I want more time with this person", and followed the link to your blog, and from there, twitter and links to the others.

I was later diagnosed with and am still being treated for GAD and depression, which I recognized and had had destigmatized by the group that YOU introduced me to. It is not exaggeration to say that you saved my marriage and allowed me to have a relationship with my kids. Minor actions on your part, just being yourself and sharing your life with us, have had a life-changing impact on me, even though you probably didn't know it.

I don't presume to think that the possibility of saving more strangers like me would be enough of a motivation for you to stay, but I want you to know concretely that THAT one lie, "the world does not need me as strongly as my wish to be gone", is absolutely, provably FALSE. The lack of you would break the world, so much going awry without you as the catalyst, not just because you are there but because it's YOU there.

I am relieved that the boys still have you. I am thankful that we still have you. I am grateful that you will have, and see, more of those moments that make being better than not-being, even when your mind is trying to take them away from you. Please stay.


So glad you're still here. Loads of love to you.


Internet stranger here that was worried about you this last week when there were no posts. I don't know you, but in a way I know you because you share your life and world and I greatly appreciate it. I am glad you are still with us. The world would be a dimmer place without you.

michelle b

I'm so sorry you're hurting. I'm so glad you're still here. Please stay.


I don't know and you may know what has brought you to this point. And I don't know and you probably don't know how to fix it. But I do know that you should keep trying. Your family loves you so much. This community does, too. We're all here for whatever you need as soon as you figure out what that is.


Zomg! Thank you for still being here!!!!!!


I am so glad you made it through this - please know that your readers love and support you. Thank you for being brave and telling your story.



I’ve never commented, but have followed you for a long time since searching for “min pin surgery” over ten years ago. Thank you for your honesty. I’m glad you are finding your way out of the darkness.♥️


I'm so glad you are here.

Misguided mommy

Something I forgot to mention. When I started my whole fitness life changing beat depression mission in 2013, I also quit drinking. For good. And then, I quit taking that Vicodin I had been taking since age 16. For good. Quitting alcohol helped so so so so so so so so so so so so much. For the rest of my life I quit. It’s surprising how much clearer your head gets, and how much easier it is to run.


So so sorry you are going through this. There is so much love for you. As everyone has stated depression lies! You are an amazing person! Sending prayers!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️


I am so glad you made it down the stairs. I'd miss you. Sending all my love and fiercest fighting vibes. Depression is the fucking, fucking worst.

I'm going to link to something I posted because it's helped other people this weekend. In case it resonates with you too.

Nichol Neson

One more chiming in to say that I'm glad you're here. Please stay.

Rashelle Dubrule

I have never commented on your blog before but I have been reading it for over 6 years. Had to come out of lurking status to say that I'm so thankful your still here. You are loved by people near and far and have touched more lives more than you can possibly know. Thank you for sharing this. Please stay.

Lorrian Ippoliti


I've almost been there, many times.

Thank you for trusting us with your story.

If I were there, I'd give you such a big hug that you'd probably be weirded out, and I'm okay with that. You know me, you just don't know you know me 'cause I don't blog. But you do, and I'm SO grateful that you do, that you STILL do.

Love and hugs and white light and positive thoughts through all the sh!t.

Lorrian in Long Beach


I am so shaken to read this. Like hearing one of my best friends (yes, I know we're not best friends, but your words have meant a lot to me) went through a nightmare and I didn't know, and I couldn't help. I'm so sorry for you struggle, and I'm so happy to still have you here. I hope your journey out of the darkness is swift, and that your support system is rock solid.


I love you. 💛💛💛


Thank you for sharing. Knowing that depression lies doesn't always help when you're in that darkest of moments, but I'm glad you're still here. Sending you and your family much love.


Because of you and what you wrote about Noah, I got help for my daughter (also ASD, also a beautiful little soul). You set us on the course to finding our way with her. I go on Wednesday to get back on medication for myself.

You're not walking alone. We're all here, and we're all glad you stayed.

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