Just about a year ago, I hiked Bear Hill Preserve. If you’re familiar with it, you know it is in no way a difficult hike. Rather easy actually. But it’s the first hike I went on by myself (sorry, mom) and it brings you to a cool little cliff top with a wicked view. It was also this day that I decided I wanted to share my stories with you lovely folks, in hopes that someone out there may relate to them and feel like they aren’t so alone. 13 months before I went on this hike, my brother was killed in a car accident. I struggled and continue to struggle with losing him all the time. After his death, depression became inevitable and I was hit with this foreign emotion called, “anxiety”. Thoughts about life, death, human existence, the afterlife, and just about everything in between flood my brain all the time. I lost all the faith I grew up with. I wasn’t really one for Sunday masses, but I liked to think there was someone in the sky making this all possible and that if were good enough people we go to a pretty place when we die. I lost all those beliefs after Kenny died. And I especially lost the belief that good things come to good people. In about an 18-month span, I lost my brother, developed an anxiety induced eating disorder, lost friends I never imagined to, joined the disgustingly large number of people who have been sexually assaulted, exercised my womanly right to choose to have a child or not, gave way too much of my time to a guy who treated me horribly out of need for comfort (that’s on me, though), and to top it all off - my dog, who was a lifelong friend, died. It’s safe to say, that whatever idea of a “God” I had left, felt like he was kicking the shit out of me. So, I threw myself a pit party. Literally. I was drunk about 90% of those months. It was the only thing that made my brain stop long enough to forget all the crap that was happening. After I thought, maybe this wasn’t the best way of handling things, I began looking for different outlets. After reading an autobiography by a comedian who told the stories of losing her mother and having a near death experience with a humorous tone, I finally felt understood. I have always had a dark sense of humor and found these horrible things that were happening almost comical. Which, of course, made me feel insane. But my therapist says, I’m not so, we’re cool. I started thinking about how these shitty things happen to everyone. Maybe not my exact story, but in some way, shape, or form, everyone can relate to losing someone, being hurt by someone, or just feeling completely exhausted by life. These things are inevitable. They happen to us all. So, I’m here to try and start some conversations about feeling completely defeated by life and trying like hell to push through it while trying to find some humor in it all. So, this is a super long way a saying – I started a blog! I’m not sure what this blog will do, but if just one person reads it and feels relieved that someone understands their pain or can get a laugh out of it when all they want to do is fall apart, well then, that’s fine by me. If you read this far, thank you and give my first post a read if you like. More to come soon! 

P.S - if anyone read this and had a problem with the decision I made, you can save yourself the message. I make no apologies and please get a hobby.