A Weekend At Home

This is going to be a long, boring post. Bear with me. I feel the need to justify my blogging absence by writing it all out. If only for myself.

It’s been a busy couple of months in our household. At the end of August, Ben and I celebrated our 12th wedding anniversary surrounded by our friends and family. It just happened to coincide perfectly with the summer house concert we had booked with independent artist and now friend of ours, Shannon Curtis. The evening was the perfect way to mark our special day. Shannon’s music was simply beautiful and she played under the big oak tree next to our house while the crickets chirped and the lights that Ben strung twinkled. My only regret is not taking more pictures, but I am glad I remembered to stay present and in the moment. It was a magical night to remember.

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The kids started school in the weeks that followed and I was busy helping our New York City team prep for their October show. The first weekend in September, my brother and I surprised my mom in Florida for her 65th Birthday. The look on her face was priceless when we both walked in the door, but lucky for her I decided not to Periscope or even photograph the surprise since she was still in her pajamas. You’re welcome, mom. Instead we have a photo of us wearing bibs. I loved getting to see my Grandma, too, since I hadn’t seen her since February which felt like so long ago.









The second weekend in September Wear Your Label, a conscious clothing company out of Canada, invited me to emcee their fashion show at New York Fashion Week in New York City. The timing couldn’t have been better, since that was the same weekend our New York City cast was getting together for the first time and I was able to attend and meet everyone. It was an awesome {albeit fast-paced} weekend. I loved meeting Kaylee and Kyle {the Co-Founders of Wear Your Label} and look forward to working with them in the future on another mental health awareness event.


The third weekend of September was the Northern Virginia NAMI {National Alliance on Mental Illness} walk. Anne Marie and I hosted a This Is My Brave table and got to talk with lots of attendees about our organization and what we do. We sold a bunch of Brave tees and brave beads, and our cast member Laurie was there to help us and catch up. The weather couldn’t have been more beautiful, to top it off.


The last weekend of September I was invited to the DBSA {Depression Bipolar Support Alliance} annual conference in Chicago to present during the Peer Showcase night, the first evening of the conference. I was joined by Canadian comedian David Granier of Stand Up for Mental Health, and my friend, singer/songwriter Shannon Curtis. We kicked off the conference with storytelling, comedy and music, and everyone had a lovely evening. The weekend was full of incredible speakers: Dese’Rae Stage of Live Thru This, Mariel Hemingway, and Andrew Solomon. I met so many amazing, like-minded people, and I felt at home.


Just this past weekend, on October 4th, This Is My Brave had our first show in New York City. I can’t even begin to describe how proud I am of our cast and production team. I was beaming from the moment the curtain went up until I closed my eyes to fall asleep that night, exhausted with the joy of what they had accomplished.


My parents flew in from Florida to spend the weekend with me and see the show. Despite the threats from Hurricane Joaquin, we made it. We drove to Long Island on Friday to see my Uncle Marty and his partner Ralph, and had a great time catching up with them before heading into the city on Saturday. I was able to attend the second half of rehearsal on Saturday, and then spent the rest of the day and evening getting last-minute details ready for the show. Sunday morning, my dad and I went to the Today Show with signs to try to get some free publicity. The show touched me on so many levels and I loved seeing and hearing how the event impacted all who attended. Monday was my dad’s birthday, and I am so thankful I got to celebrate it with him and my mom over a lovely dinner after the show. Living over a thousand miles apart makes me so grateful for the moments we get to spend together.

This weekend I was supposed to host a table at the AFSP {American Foundation for Suicide Prevention – there will be a quiz on all the mental health organization acronyms at the end!} community walk in DC, but after being in DC on Friday for the International Bipolar Foundation breakfast, I knew I needed a day off. That, and realizing the tornado inside of our house was screaming to be tamed, I made the decision to take this weekend to re-group, clean and spend time at home with my family.

I spent yesterday attacking one room at a time with a duster, the vacuum, and the desire to give everyone a fresh, clean start as we tumble into autumn. As I cleaned, I listened to Jenny Lawson’s new book, Furiously Happy, and found myself having to stop what I was doing and tweet out quotes it was so good. It made me want to get serious about writing my own memoir about living with bipolar, which is something I desperately want to do someday. But at the moment my focus is on This Is My Brave, our seventh and final show of this year {LA’s book launch event for Amy Ferris’ Shades of Blue on November 19th! Details coming this week!} and planning for 2016.

I’m not going to lie. These past few months have been exhausting. But at the same time, they are what fill me up. It’s hard to be away from my family, but I return to them more complete. It’s an unbelievable feeling to know in your heart that you’ve found your life’s calling, and I don’t take it for granted. Whenever someone tells me how much my work touches them and it’s so wonderful I’m helping so many people, I am overwhelmed. All I ever wanted to do was encourage people to be open and share their stories. It’s only because people believed in me that this work is able to touch so many. I am so grateful people had confidence in my vision.

I can’t help but let my insecurities creep in from time to time. Typically when I hear about a suicide or that someone I know is struggling with their own mental health. I feel so helpless, even though I’ve battled similar demons. Why can’t I find the right words? Why can’t I be a better friend? Why can’t I make a bigger difference, help more people, stop the suffering?

I know it has to do with the issue of being enough and accepting that I am enough, and these are things I’m working on. This is not a plea for pity or praise. I’m just putting it out there because I want to be real, and I want my readers to know that I still have plenty of things I’m working on. Just because I’ve found stability with my mental health doesn’t mean my life is perfect. If only it were that easy. Anne Marie reminds me nearly every week that we’ve accomplished a great deal in our first two years, and I know she is right. I know that I want This Is My Brave to grow slowly and sustainably, staying true to our mission of ending stigma through storytelling, which is exactly what we’re doing.

Thank you to everyone who has supported me on this journey, especially my husband, parents and in-laws who are always willing to jump in and help with the kids so that I can attend meetings, conferences, and special events. I wouldn’t be on this journey if it weren’t for my friends cheering me on, my readers continuously reaching out to tell me how much they appreciate me being open about my story, and my growing This Is My Brave family for contributing to this dream. Sometimes it doesn’t feel real, like when I saw myself on the cover of Bipolar Hope Magazine this week. I am full of gratitude for this life.


Happy Holiday weekend, friends. Thanks for being on this journey with me.

Bringing Mental Illness into the Light


Rejection hurts. It stings my heart and crushes my soul. When it happens more than I can count on one hand in a matter of three days, well, it makes for a shitty week. Makes me wonder if it’s worth all the effort.

This morning I unconsciously pulled a teeshirt out of my dresser drawer. I was immediately reminded of what drives me as I pulled the shirt over my head, stared at my reflection in the mirror. What pushes me to continue on through the no’s, the unreturned phone calls, the doubts in my mind.

I’ve heard these doubts whispering in my head before. They were gossiping amongst themselves, loud enough for me to overhear, when we launched our Kickstarter in 2013. Even when we surpassed our goal, they still kept on chattering through our auditions, rehearsals, right up until I walked on stage with my cast for our debut show. Once our cast took to the podium, one by one, we finally silenced those doubts.

So they’ve returned, and I’m not surprised. I have to once again focus on our mission, why we came together to raise our voices for the greater good.

The gray tee with maroon block letters I was wearing today is one of my biggest reminders. VIRGINIA TECH. We will never forget.

I often wonder what would have happened if one person would have been courageous enough to have been the net that could have prevented the awful tragedy of April 16, 2007. One person reaching out. One person noticing. One person providing help.

I know it’s so much more complicated than that, believe me.

I remember when the news broke, where I was, what I was doing. Shaking. On the phone with my brother, a VT alum. Then my husband,  also an alum. Staring at the TV in disbelief.

The power of This Is My Brave lies in the vulnerability of the people who decide to stand up on stage and tell their story through a microphone, or publish their words to our community’s blog. We’ve been through the unthinkable. But we’ve made it to the other side. We’re stronger, better equipped to continue the fight. Ready to make a difference.

We all have our struggles in life. What if, instead of pushing those issues and problems and fear of being judged down deep inside of us, we made a bold move and opened up?

I used to be afraid of people finding out that I have bipolar disorder. But ever since I stopped hiding, I’ve noticed something huge. The vast majority of the time, the person on the other end of the conversation says, “me too.” Or, “someone close to me is suffering from depression,” or “my mom/dad/brother/sister/aunt/cousin/etc./etc./etc. has a mental illness.”

It’s everywhere.

Which is why I won’t give up. I won’t stop talking about mental illness because we’re all affected by it. And I want to change lives by continuing to bring true stories into the light. If just one person is helped by this work, it’s all worth it.

Move over insecurity, I have important work to do.

The Key to Avoiding Mommy-Meltdown

 Self-care: The Key to Avoiding the Mommy-Meltdown

This is the third post of a 12-week series on How I Learned to Manage My Bipolar Illness by Cultivating a Healthy Lifestyle.

If your winter has been as rough as ours has been so far this winter, then your kids are likely on their third snow day in a row and you may be in the middle of a mommy-meltdown. (Now it hasn’t been nearly as bad as Boston, thank heavens. That poor city deserves a break!) If you’re like me, you’ve already begun to wave the white flag. We had built forts, baked banana bread, watched movies, the kids went sledding with their Daddy (no way was I going out in the frigid temps!), wrote stories, read books, and played about thirty rounds of Pictionary.

I was frazzled. Cabin fever coupled with whiny kids wreaks havoc on my mood.

Then I realized. It had been days since I took time to myself. I don’t know why I sometimes forget to do this simple thing, but I do. I get caught up in the rush and frenzy of the days, all the while putting the kids needs before mine, and before I know it the clock says 11pm and I’m crawling into bed, exhausted and a little bitter for the absence of downtime.

Self-care is easy when we remember

One of my favorite ways to relax is by taking a nice warm bubble bath while reading a book. Another is to give myself a manicure. Or snuggling up on the couch with my husband and watching something on Netflix. The key for me is to carve out the time to let myself enjoy the luxury of doing something I love.

Lack of me-time = stress

I only realized I was an introvert a few years ago. I do love meeting new people and going to conferences and networking events, but I always need time to unwind by myself after outings like these or I get stressed out. Even a fun family trip can cause me to get agitated at the end because I haven’t had enough time to just be alone. But I’ve learned it’s important that I recognized this need so I can plan to adjust my schedule to include downtime.

Something to look forward to

I love when I’m able to schedule self-care, like lunch with friends or a yoga class or date night with my husband. Because then I have it on my calendar and I know I won’t accidentally forget. It’s something to look forward to, and that makes it even more enjoyable. The third snow day in a row doesn’t seem so unbearable anymore when I have a much-anticipated event on my mind.

Self-care is important for anyone, not only those of us who live with mental illness. But ever since I began making self-care an integral part of my treatment plan, I’ve noticed a positive change in the stability of my moods. These days I make sure to take time for myself each day – even if it’s only fifteen minutes – because the solo time allows me to avoid the mommy-meltdown.

Do you remember to make time for self-care?

For the love of crayons


I was honored to be invited to participate in Rachel Cedar’s series entitled, 28 Days of Play, a collection of essays by parents which revolve around how we play with our children

Initially I was hesitant to write a piece. I thought back to my son’s infant and toddler years, remembering with affection how each day was filled with hours upon hours of down-on-the-floor, nose-to-nose playtime. By the time our daughter was born, things began to change. I was back at work part-time, and then when she arrived, I had to learn how to juggle the needs of an energetic toddler and a newborn.

I’d love for you to click over to You Plus Two Parenting to read my essay and let me know your thoughts. The month is full of talented writers I admire, so I encourage you to check back often and read them all.