Ah, coronavirus. A virus that needs no introduction. The star of all our lives right now brings out the best in us, the worst in us, but mostly it seems, the annoying in us. Whether it’s the protesters, the hoarders, or the family members who struggle way too much to figure out Zoom, there is some group of people getting under all of our skin. I invite you to have a nice vent with me, air those grievances, girl, because it’s never good to keep that in.
It is my sincerest hope that this post doesn’t resonate with most of my readers. I hope you can wake up in the morning, brush your teeth, pour yourself some joe, and work a long and productive day at your nine to five job, five days a week until you die… at your desk.
But I wanted to put a resource out there for my readers who have bouts of “I am just too fucking crazy right now to work a real job.” Because despite what we may think, it happens to the best of us.
I have very good mental health. I wake up happy, I don’t experience any kind of explosive emotions (unless, of course, I see dogs locked in hot cars or someone chewing really loudly then, naturally, all bets are off). For the most part, I’m a pretty stable Sally.
That being said, all of my immediate family members are severely mentally ill. Like, screaming-at-mailboxes-and-threatening-to-kill me mentally ill. I also have PCOS and when I have that perfect combo of “daddy is stalking me again” and “I’m five weeks late for my period,” sometimes I get too fucking crazy to work.
I have had times in my life where my family situation, my health, or my work situations have been too much to endure. I have left jobs because of sexual harassment so bad I would have felt safer on the set of “Good Will Humping.” During those times, the idea of putting on a cute outfit, getting a Starbucks, and talking with all the scary people has left me noping right the fuck out of my job. But that’s the thing about life: crazy or not, you always gotta have that sweet cash to pay those not-so-sweet bills.
So what do you do when you just snap? Your fibro or anxiety or piece-of-shit boss force you into the world of unemployment? How do you pay the bills when you’ve had it with the nine to five, and it’s had it with you? Luckily, DG has you covered.
Here are seven things I have done for money at my nuttiest:
Spring is right around the corner! Better weather, new beginnings, and for many of us, it means a lot more social, work, and family responsibilities. If for you that translates into outright panic or good old-fashioned stress, here are three great strategies for when you are freaking the fuck out.
“Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.”
– Charles R. Swindoll
Charles is treading dangerously close to republican waters, which is actually a frozen lake where if you fall in, you are fucked. But Damn, Girl is going there.
The fact of the matter is it’s hard not to let the shit that happens to you and the shit that has happened to you affect your decisions for the worse.
There, there. Mama understands. Life is hard. We’re all getting beaten with shovels and felt up in cars and miss the semi annual sale at Victoria’s Secret. Life is just traumatizing AF. But this blog is about activating and harnessing your power, and to do that, there’s some shit you are going to have to let go.
Here are five things it’s time to get over: Continue reading “Damn, Girl, Get Over It”
There is that first day of fall where you feel like the world is a magical place, full of wonder and change. A bit later comes that fall day when shit starts to get real and you realize you have fifty years of fucking winter stretching out before you.
On that day, which for most of us is between November 1st – 5th, you need to take your supplies of feel-good fall energy and use them to rescue your future self.
Seasonal depression is the bane of my existence. It will be the middle of July and I will be like, “You Fools! Put down your volleyballs and summer shandies! Winter Is Coming!”
I’ve been training for this all year, so consider me your honorary Ph.D in S.A.D. and how to dodge it
It’s becoming pretty obvious that our ridiculous full voicemail, texting, Netflix-watching, desk job, blue light, to-do-list-filled lives are screwing with us. We’re all anxious and depressed and overwhelmed and floaty-feeling because the last time we weren’t plugged into some kind of device, Bill Clinton was in office.
So, of course, the ones with all the obnoxious wisdom have spoken. It’s time to forest bathe, do yoga, and most importantly: meditate.
You know, sit in a quiet place, focus on your breath, practice mindfulness…pull your fingernails out one by one and try to boil yourself to death in a half inch of water. ‘Cause really, what’s the difference?
I hate meditating. God, it’s hard for me. My mind is a tireless athlete whose running inner monologue is essentially:
“Hustle, hustle, hustle, don’t end up like your mother, hustle hustle hustle, ooh, that’s a good idea, write that down, hustle hustle hustle.”
My “distracted ambition” (patent pending) is kindling for panic attacks.
So I visit the Pinterest boards filled with perky chicks wearing tank tops that say “Namastay Grateful.” I try so hard to read these posts, which are all soothing and helpful, and I can almost make it through one before the heat of irritation bubbles up into my soul and I go, “Ahhhhhhhh, I can’t even read about meditating, let alone meditate.”
So what do you do when you feel disconnected? Like you are a passenger in your own life? When you feel anxious? When you get that feeling that time is either going at a crawl or speeding by like lightning…or both?
Unfortunately, you fucking meditate.
Here’s a guide for my lovelies who want to want to mediate: Continue reading “The Beginner’s Guide to Meditation”
You know the ones. They all star this legless bald chick with an IQ of 70 and anorexia whose stepdad beats her but she ends up going to Harvard and winning Miss USA and running a marathon and then goes on to inspire other bald legless anorexics to achieve their dreams.
Does the Lifetime movie channel play in other countries besides America? Cause it’s so fucking “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps” American I could puke…and then make a hot chocolate and grab a box of kleenex and cry, “She’s. So-ooo. Ah…ma..ma..zing!” and then watch it again. Damn you, Lifetime movies!
I swear to God, this is the reason why we are all so crazy: the expectations. They are terrible. TERRIBLE!
This is coming from someone who is practically a walking talking lifetime movie.
Is there anything worse than a panic attack? Of course there is. But when one strikes, most of us are willing to sell our own mothers and throw in free shipping to make it stop.
If you are dealing with panic attacks, I know that you are in research overdrive mode and you probably got yourself a fresh bottle of magnesium and a plan and probably a book. Good for you!
No matter how resolute you feel with whatever path you have chosen, save this post. Remember it. You’re going to be processing a lot of information, but bookmark this one. You may need to come back to it.