This is NOT a blog…………It’s a LIE.

February 28, 2014 — 165 Comments

self harm

I’m brain deep in a conspiracy of lies.

A nastified little gremlin lives in the deconstruction zone of my confident facade.

like this, only with anal warts and horrible breath

like this, only with anal warts and horrible breath

His mission: expose my prodigious self doubt by verbally annihilating me with meticulously fabricated lies.

He’s good, too – he’s hot boxing his ditch weed, playing Flappy Birds, and killing me softly, without even breaking a sweat.

And to shut his FAT MOUTH up, I stop feeling.

Which perpetuates more lies.

And then I hide it all in an extravagant online cover-up.

Quite a network of lies.

I get dressed to go to work, and he says,

“Motorcycle boots?  Grow UP, you fashion magazine ‘DON’T.’ Go home and rot until your AARP card comes, loser!”

And then the black vortex sets in.



But I can lie. And hide behind a gravatar and a whole lot of snarky comments.

I lie about the secrets I’m living, and the ones that infiltrate the grooves of my brain.

The Cycle begins…

Taste deafness. Everything tastes the same. Like nothing. When pizza tastes like fish, is there any reason to eat? So I don’t.

Brain fog. I lose my car keys/ wallet / train of thought / that thing I put on the thing / the – wait, what was I typing?

Forty-eleven voice mails about snow days and delayed openings. I end up bringing my kid to school on President’s Day.  A national holiday.
Now I get to keep my crown as Neighborhood’s Weirdest Mom.

I can’t bring myself to wash my hair. That movement of my arms is too uplifting and victorious. Or I’m out of shampoo. Whatever. It’s a THING. I go for weeks.

Where will we go?

I brush the shit out of it, and wear backwards Kangol hats I own in every color. They were my signature look when I performed spoken word.
In the 90’s.

Steve, once they sell them at Marshalls, they’re NOT cool.

I look more pathetic than that director of Pulp Fiction, what’s his name, and him wearing a Kangol was how the term “asshat” was invented. But Who Cares?

I’m just deleting these from now on.

NO sleep. I drift off at gray milky dawn. The music of everything just stirring to life is an ironic lullaby precisely 90 minutes before I have to get up to get my kid ready.

I’m OVER this. He’s “gifted,” he can put a damn bagel in the toaster oven.

Mama please don’t sign the papers.

My students are looking at me funny. Check it, I know I look like a slump buster right now. What you should be worried about is that my brain is on planet Zorfly.

So I have no CLUE how to explain what the horizontal translation of the equation of a function on the XY coordinate plane is. Which means you’re FUCKED.

I stay in bed. I cancel work. I don’t leave the house unless I have to. For therapy. To pick my kid up at school. That’s the worst.

These women spend their days grooming to go home to husbands they never sleep with. How much eyeliner do you need to buy cold cuts?

I haven’t bathed in 2 days, my hair is in dirty dreds, this is the third day I’m in these clothes and

I smell like a cat that got fucked over a garbage can.

or a dumpster

or a dumpster

My shrink says my depression tells these lies:

1. I don’t matter

2. People don’t care

3. I’m an imposter


Number 3 is the Gremlin’s specialty mind fuck.  It’s called “Imposter Syndrome” and it means I can internalize nothing I’ve accomplished.

My therapist is financing a beach house off of me and my Imposter Syndrome.

Number 2 – maybe, people don’t care?
Which is why I’m took Xanax to hit “Publish.”

Dr. Beach House wants me to reach out to people, but I’ve been independent since I was 16. I don’t like asking for help. I don’t want to be rescued.

But I’m over this Halle Berry Gothika nightmare.

I call my IRL BFFS. They don’t quite know what I’m saying; part sobs, part Barsoomian. They listen anyway. Dor sha-pan

Email is better. If I can feel my finger tapping the keys, I exist. I reach out.


And YOU are why I’ve healed enough to write this.

I get emails; offers to Skype or talk on the phone.

And each response is like novocaine in an excruciating impacted wisdom tooth.

The absence of pain is a beautiful thing.

TwinDaddy tells me there’s no need to suffer alone.

Jennie wants to rescue me from the abyss and mail me cupcakes.

Rara talks to me about the healing power of blogging. And helps me get this damn post up.

Sheena reminds me she’s always there if I need her.

Matticus tells me I’m amazing, and that I am LOVED.

Beth tells me she’ll walk in my rain, hell, she’ll hold the umbrella.

Guap reminds me that depression is a lying bastard.

REDdog is brilliant.
I told him I feared writing this, that no one might read it, and he understood. Because hate, he said, is not the opposite of love.

Indifference is.

The truth is, when you’re ill is when you find out who your friends really are.

Yes. I said it. This is…

A mental illness.

It’s “situational.” It happens when my life implodes.

My illness is depression combined with some OCD combined with an urge to self harm.

Self-harm creates distance from emotional feelings. Picking until there’s blood is a distraction from the agony in my head.

Self harmers are encouraged to wear rubber bands around their wrists.

Last night, my kid and I are watching a movie and



That sucker did the trick.

Luckily my son is ADHD and he fidgets with SO MUCH SHIT he’d make Ghandi want to punch a cow. So, he just goes with it.

We had chips and salsa.

I chopped jalapeno pepper in my salsa. It stung like fiery hell. I was choking and snotting and tearing up. But it doesn’t scar.

My kid thought it was hilarious.

My gremlin popped in,

“Look at you, sad-dy face, your life is WORTHLESS. You’re watching a stupid hip hop movie with your ten-year-old, you know you turning him into a homosexual, right?”

Only I’m not even watching the movie.

I’m imagining myself


Hard by the tractor of an 18 wheeler. I bet that would be better than car sex, which I normally dig, cause how many things do we own that are both an object AND a location?

I’m imagining


The back of my head blown away, big time, full-time, by a 45 caliber Glock, not some pussy “handbag” 22. I’d hold the gun sideways in my mouth, gangsta style.

This is suicidal ideation. It’s an OCD thing. People with suicide ideation don’t usually try to commit suicide. I personally have no interest in dying.

I just have these images.

They’re comforting.


Sometimes, for me, they’re pleasurable to the point of erotica. I’d be jacking off to them if I could feel my vagina.

And sometimes frightening.

Which is why I can’t drive to my bestie’s house and lay on her couch while she feeds me tea.

I’m afraid to drive 100 miles.

Between snapping rubber bands, replaying my erotic deathscape, and blowing jalapeno snot out of my nose, who has the energy to shampoo?

Little Dude asks, “Mama, how exactly during intercourses does the sperm fertilize the egg?”


“Where did you learn that?”

“Health class.”

“They’re teaching THAT in 4th grade?”

“Well, only to the kids whose parents signed off on it.”

That’s what happens when you’re in a depression. You sign things you have no memory of signing.

Now my blog isn’t a lie.

I’m sitting here.

Filthy haired.

Under my blankey.

Under eye circles like Uncle Fester.

My kid’s googling “intercourses.”

Number 1 IS a lie.

I matter.


1. You’re reading this, and maybe you feel less alone?

2. I’m my son’s only mother.

He gets all I can muster. At night, when we cuddle, he strokes my face and tells me how much he loves me.

That’s how I know I matter.

Everyone keep saying it’s been such a hard winter, and I’ll feel better when it’s spring.

I personally love the fall.

Did you know that leaves don’t actually change color?

Those are the underlying colors of the leaves.

They’re just covered in green, like a veil, because of the chlorophyll. In the fall, the leaves stop producing chlorophyll.

The green veil lifts.

And what remains are those brilliantly vivid colors of fall leaves.

They were there, all the time.

They were just covered.

Quentin Tarantino! That’s his name! Awesome flicks!

But he looked like an idiot in those hats.

I’m SO washing my hair.

Author’s note: I’ve been listening to Lenny Kravitz’s debut album Let Love Rule compulsively. Fuck Cinna in Hunger Games. Kravitz is a genius songcrafter. Played every single instrument on the record.

This track is dirty funk; a retro ode to 70’s R&B. This dude can pocket a bass groove; he’s got the raw, gritty vocals; and I dig the 60’s uplifting Farfisa organ at the bridge. It gives me hope.

“And all I do, is sing the blues…”

Do you ever get depressed?  Or know someone who does?
Talk to me. I’m listening.

165 responses to This is NOT a blog…………It’s a LIE.


    I will walk through the rain with you and hold your umbrella, sister.

    This post was so powerful, I’m still processing it. I have so many *feels* I don’t know quite how to start. Oh here,
    KRAVITZ SINGS MY SOUL. He, and Ben Harper, and Bob Marley….I die.

    Okay, now back to our regularly scheduled programming. You have never been this exposed, this “naked” before on your blog, and never more beautiful.

    REAL is beautiful, even when its ugly. Think about that.

    This too shall pass. It WILL. Hang in there. (and all the other cliche as fuck phrases, but I MEAN them) Therapy – YES.

    You know I’ve been there before. And look at me now? No phase lasts forever.

    I love what you wrote about leaves. I didn’t know that! I think it’s a powerful metaphor.

    Love you CRAZYMADBIG. I’m here for you, always. And I’m SO PROUD you hit publish.


      and so help me god, if you get ONE negative comment from this baring-of-your-soul I’ll kick their ass myself! Do NOT respond to negativity. Pretend it’s not there.


        Uh oh, shit’s gonna get real!

        No, this post won’t bother anyone. But thanks for making me feel protected. Both of you.


        I love this. All this ass kicking protective stuff is gorgeous. And HOT.

        But I’m fine. No one can hurt me with negativity.

        All I have to worry about is the crap in my OWN head.


        Writing posts like these will help you get that shit out of your head. Hell, you don’t even have to publish them. You can write it down in a notebook, an email, a journal, or a private post. Something. Anything. Just give it an outlet.


        The funny thing is, I have a notebook full of stuff from the last 3 weeks.

        And today, I actually took a yoga class. And left the notebook (because of the friggin brain fog) at the studio. I went back there like a bat out of hell.

        I was thinking, “oh shit! I cannot let these yoga ladies read this! They will NOT let me back in here hahahaha.”

        I need something that self destructs in case I lose it. You seem like a techie kind of dude, can you invent that?


        Do you really want to lose those thoughts?


        Yikes! Better than having a bunch of strangers read it.

        I swear, I was hyperventilating by the time I got back there.

        They hadn’t even opened it. Whew.


        Eh, we all have our own demons to face. You’re hardly alone in that regard.


        I really don’t expect any negativity from this. That would be absurd.

        Then again, I have had several really absurd things happen to me on WordPress. Whatever. The past is the past.

        I wouldn’t mind watching you give someone an ass whooping, though, because it would kind of be hot? Is that too freaky for you?



      That’s what you’re all about, and right now I’m feeling it for you. Taking time away from your busy life, and lending me your umbrella – I stayed dry, girl.
      I’m hanging. Thanks to you, and whomever my crazy self reached out to.
      Yeah, I feel really exposed. Yikes. But I had to get this out.

      We could talk FOREVER about Lenny Kravitz. Methinks he could earn a place on your hunk wall – not him now, but remember him with those long dreds, and his bare chest, and…YEAH.


        Uh…yeah. Younger Kravitz….YUM. So freakin’ sexy. Dreds…..*swoon* I love a naughty boy. Don’t get me started. No. Really. Don’t.

        Keep stayin’ under that umbrella. Again, I’m so glad you posted this. Looks like you’ve received amazing, beautiful, supportive feedback. That’s like writer’s Prozac.



    I do not like that first image, not at all. Which isn’t to say it doesn’t belong there. It’s just that visuals like that make scattered, amorphous, scary feelings REAL, and I hate that those are the feelings running your brain right now.

    For what it’s worth, I love you with greasy hair. I love you with bad breath and no breakfast and watching dumb movies, and I think more of us than care to admit it have fantasized about running the car off the road, and had to pull over slowly, shaking, so our hands didn’t rebel and do it FAST.

    We should Skype this weekend. I’d like to see your face, now more than ever.



      Jennie love,
      I’m actually worried now that I put it up. It captures what I feel, but I’m worried about it disturbing others…

      Trust me, you don’t love my bad breath. It would melt your eyeglasses.

      Can I Skype with a paper bag over my head? I look scary


        I think we should both wear paper bags. But they have to be decorated with Sharpie marker, at a minimum. Glitter if you’re feeling nasty.


        Hey, I’ve seen pics of you. Multiple pics. YOU are gorgeous.

        I’m cute, but not lately. Lately I look like…well, a slump buster. Look it up on wikipedia.

        I heart glitter! What else can we decorate with if we feel kinda nasty? Those foam cut outs?


        This project – like most – is an excuse to get wild with glue sticks. It’s not something we NEED to do to protect each others’ eyes! That said, yes, animal-shape foam cut-outs are extra-nasty, and sequins are rated XXXtremely crafty.


        Can you imagine us in AC Moore, orgasming in the aisles over pom poms and Wiggle Round Eyes?

        Girl, you can tell by the lingo that I know my way around a crafts stores. My kid loves art projects. I drop so much money in those places it’s ridiculous.

        I actually want post about what it’s like to have a hysterical 10 year old wake you up at 6 am, sobbing, and telling you, “I need everything for a grey wolf habitat diorama. TODAY.”

        Glue sticks rock. Should I tag my post that?


        Absolutely. Samara, I can’t believe you’re even asking me that question. Go! Create! Put Wiggle Round Eyes on the WORLD!


        When I finally DO visit you, Jennie, I’m bringing us a huge bin of arts and crafts stuff, like I keep in my house, and we are gonna get bat shit crazy!


        Can I knit a sweater for a lamppost or something utterly useless like that? Oh, pretty please!


        I so wish I had a witty retort for that right now, but my child is interfering with my blog commenting…

        He’s hungry. They have to be fed, you know. Like plants. Only more annoying.


        Eat up, buttercup! Mama’s got bloggin’ to do.

        Tell kiddo I say happy Friday.


        For kids, every Friday is happy!


    I heart you. I really do.

    I wish I could say more, but today isn’t a day where I can come up with the right words. Except, you know, I’m always there if you need me. Anytime. Seriously..

    (not saying that you doubted it, but just saying…I mean what I promise)


      You always reassure me. Always let me know you’re there.

      That’s the kind of person you are.

      I know you’re having your own stuff today. And just the fact that you pulled yourself out if it enough to comment speaks volumes. It’s more than I’m capable of, at the moment.



    OK, I re-read it, because I am like that. This line:

    “The truth is, when you’re ill is when you find out who your friends are.”

    Soooo very true. I probably make it very hard for people to be friends with me when I am in a low period,like I have been, but that also shows me who people really are behind the words (written or spoken). Who they want others to think they are vs. who they really are when it counts. Everything to everyone vs. nothing inside.


      “Who they want others to think they are vs. who they really are when it counts. Everything to everyone vs. nothing inside”
      Holy shit, lady, are you living in my brain?
      You nailed it.


        The worst part is…nobody believes you when you tell them the truth. It can be very lonely being on the outside of the popular opinion.

        Sometimes I think I am not cut out for this online sharing, blogging, whatever. But then I worry about what would happen if I didn’t write. Both options kind of suck for me right now. Share, get hurt. Don’t share, stay hurt.

        (I’ll admit your opening image threw me off, but I am super sensitive about trigger warnings and such, especially given my recent moods and the kid’s stuff…however, your blog, your choice)


        OH SHIT.

        See, I’m a newbie. I’m just 3 months old. And I need people to tell me this shit.

        Sheena, I want the honest truth from you – should I change it? I was going for something that reflected what I visualize, but if it keeps depressed people away, because it’s too intense, then I’m defeating my own purpose.

        Email me, if you want. I need to discuss this with you. I am teachable. ALWAYS.

        And regarding the sharing, I had to be persuaded multiple times by multiple people to come forward with this. I’ve been really hurt by people in the blogosphere, and I was really afraid to be vulnerable. Still am.


        I know where you were going with it. I still read through everything but I can’t speak for anyone else. I just know if I am going to mention or show anything that could be considered a “trigger”, I try to put a warning before the picture (for example, my post today is a minefield for some people) or make a “break” in the post so it isn’t on the front page. But, again, this is about your expression so don’t think I am saying it’s right or wrong. Just..unexpected, maybe? It’s so stylized that it’s not “real” but again, that’s me.

        I’ve shared so much and met some awesome people (um, you, for example) but at the same time have been horribly hurt by random strangers and “friends”. Some days are good; I can say “fuck them”, other days I want to pull the plug on everything and disappear, let them know they won and good for them…except they would never notice if I was around or not. So I keep going for now, because though I am less trusting than I was before, I still value the people who have proven to be genuine so far.

        Sorry for rambling. I am home, sick, tired and just fucked up right now.


        Sheena –

        Listen to me.

        I’m brand new at this. I probably should have put “trigger” on this. I know nothing about blogging. I need for people who have done this a while to let me know this shit.

        And we have more in common than you could possible even know. I know being hurt by a random stranger.

        I also now know what it feels like to be surrounded by incredible people. Like you.

        I’m so sorry you’re sick, tired and fucked up. We should maybe email later tonight? Or over the weekend if you’re up for it?

        I want to pay forward all the love I got this week. I’m here for you.


        I know and I appreciate it.

        Trigger warnings are different for different people, I am just hyper aware of it because online eating disorder communities usually are super-vigilant about it. If you are worried about it now, then I would just move it so it is not the first image on the post.

        I’m always connected, one way or another, so feel free to drop me a line whenever you like. I might end up going offline Sunday for a while, but not permanently 🙂


        Thank you for your honesty, chica.

        I’m checking with some folks who get depressed and/or have these kinds of issues. I need to be educated.



    You appear (are) such powerfully creative & yet delicately sensitive person Samara. Your unique qualities both succour & suck upon lifes vitality. I wish you peace & balance.

    I’ve had (am) familiar with the Black Dog of Depression, have been since the age of…. You have now coloured him green…& now when he fades & falls behind me he will become an iridescent kaleidoscope of shifting russet reds & burnt umbers & saffron yellows & terracotta’s… For which I give you great thanks


      You have the soul of a poet…wait, you ARE a poet! Also, an artist? Those colors came to life with your words.

      Yes, I am very sensitive. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I take a beating sometimes, but ultimately, this quality allows for the kind of compassion that people need in order to live in the world with one another.

      Yes – balance. That is what I need. Do you perchance know where I can get some?


        What a beautiful word and act compassion is.

        Balance is found within the strength of loving support you give & receive. Reading & understanding you & those about you speaks volumes of the balance you have achieved. But it can be tough perceiving this (as you know)

        The pains & pleasures of the dark & the light.

        And. You’re really so kind to say those things. YOU are very special


        “The pains & pleasures of the dark & the light.”

        I’m going to have to start saving your comments and compiling them.


        There an artist called Andy Goldsworthy who constructs exquisitely beautiful ephemeral sculptures from ice or sticks or leaves. They’re made insitu, by a river or in a wood or on a frozen lake, materials taken a crafted from the surrounding environment. Things of great beauty that exist & then change naturally disassembling. I came across one once, by accident, whilst walking through an autumnal wood. The impact was blindingly profound. An epiphany.

        Blogdom – a place of creation & blinding epiphanies


        But I must tell you –
        some of those “blinding epiphanies” – have been quite painful.

        And as I speak to others, I find out that many have had similar of these blinding ephiphanies.

        I’m not sure we all take as good care of one another as we should in blogdom. It’s not quite real life – but we’re not mannequins, either.

        We’re real people on the end of these computers. Too many bloggers completely forget that.

        I don’t know what made me write all of that – the lateness of the hour, and your use of the word “blinding” – yes.

        It’s morning for you, I think. It’s 2 am here.

        I suffer from insomnia. But I should be able to get some rest tonight.


        ‘Blinding’ so many meanings to the word, literal & metaphorical (good & bad)

        You are so right about the transitory & intangiable nature of Blogdom responsibilities. Personally I struggle to get my head around the concept of a virtual reality & reality. I guess the difference is in cause & effect; one is direct & connected, the other disconnected.

        Hummm I think that one needs some more thought put into it lol

        Hope you slept sound & peacefully. Its 3pm here & I’ve just finished my shift at work. All these separate lives & events happening everywhere all the time. Awesome isn’t it.


        It is amazing communicating with people in different parts of the world.

        Although it makes me a little…wistful. Thinking I probably will never get to meet those who live in other countries. You’re in the UK?

        Late morning here; I’m just getting around to my second cup of tea (yes, I’m a tea drinker. One cup of coffee to start the day – then tea.

        I’m not sure I understand what you mean about cause and effect; in terms of disconnected. Is virtual reality disconnected? In terms of blogdom responsibilities? I think I’m struggling with that, because I really felt that the people who came through for me this week, the blog friends, were really there for me. And the person who didn’t – well, it wasn’t technically his responsibility. But it showed a lack of something?

        This is not the place for this conversation. He has already emailed me and told me to fuck off. I was snide and mean spirited he said. I was. I covered my hurt with sarcasm. Don’t we all?

        Inbox, please.


        Hi fellow tea drinker. Favourite tea is one called Hummity from Darjeeling. As for coffee I love it especially one from Rwanda called Missossi.

        Yes I’m from the UK

        Would be great to chat about stuff but no idea how…


        If you look at your dashboard, anytime I leave a comment, my email is there.


    You matter because I say you freeking matter… and I am never wrong… not where it matters…


    Poor Samara. Depression is an awful roommate. Wish I had the power to kick the MF out, too. Freaking jerk! I have dysthymia. That’s a kind of depression that sucks the life and joy out of you and, every so often, plunges you into the fiery abyss. I’m on Skype. I’ll email you my skype mail address. I don’t use it for anything else. Then yonu’ll have one more set of shoulders on which to cry. Love ya. XO


      Love you too, Cimmy.

      There was an earlier response to this, but you posted it twice, and I deleted one of them. I think I took out the one with my response.


    I hope you leave a note reminding yourself to wrap your gremlin up in this post and let him wither away inside it.
    No one who doesn’t matter could have written this. No one who is worthless would have these people show up to stand with her (or sit nearby) to offer support.
    And this is as honest a post or expression of self as any I’ve read, with no imposter here at all.

    I’m sorry there’s no easy fix, no quick therapy or phrase, no simple pill or medicine that can relieve you of that pezhead gremlin.
    But you aren’t facing it alone, so at least you’ve got people that care to lean on.

    (Give your gremlin a goofy name. Easier to laugh at him when he turns up.)
    (The pezhead.)


      Oh, and I dug the tune! Never got to see him, but I still have the unused tickets from a show in Boston that I missed.


        The above was totally off topic, but there it is.
        (I went with that story because I don’t have a pic of my latest hawaiian shirt to distract.)
        (Seriously, it’s hideous.)
        (Gloriously so!) 😀


        How was this off topic?
        We’re talking about Kravitz, right?

        Did you know he’s half African American and half Jewish? That may be part of why I’m OBSESSED with his music. Growing up, I always felt I was half those things, too. I wasn’t. But I felt like I was.

        Are you really in a Hawaiian shirt? Dude, it’s 4 degrees out!


        I’m not, but in 20 days, I’m wearing it, temperature be damned!!!

        I just like his music.
        And I couldn’t keep track of a conversation topic with a syllabus and a black and white Composition Notebook. 😀


        Because in 20 days, it’s spring, right? Yay!! So I take it you always wear a Hawaiian shirt on the first day of spring?

        I hope you don’t freeze your butt off.

        I love the way you dart in and out of conversations.

        You and my son having a conversation would be HILARIOUS. I’d actually video tape it, for YouTube.


        Great song, right? For some inexplicable reason the critics kinda panned this album when it came out.

        Personally, I think Kravitz missed his calling. His funky bass playing on this jam is HOT. Better than some who have the title “bass player.”
        Tickets to an unseen show sounds like a story I’d like to hear…


        Nah, I just bought tickets to the wrong venue.No good story there.

        Unlike missing Alice Cooper on Halloween because I went to Paris instead.
        That’s a pretty good story.


        Paris is awesome, but

        Alice Cooper on Halloween? Dude, that one was NOT to be missed. I’m sorry. We’ll always have Paris.


        It’s one of a handful of shows I’m sorry I missed.


        I am extremely jealous of your concert attendance. I’ll freely admit that.

        I rarely see live music. Maybe only a few times a year. That needs to be fixed. That will add more joy to my life. Music, as you said, is a healing force.

        My BFF travels all over the country seeing amazing stuff. She’s crazy. Goes to the most out of the way places. Who travels to Little Rock, Arkansas? During a blizzard?


        Nice thing about nyc is how many shows there are.
        bad part is how late they run.
        Blew off the Fleshtones in brooklyn last nice because they were the headliners with 5 openers. Didn’t feel like waiting til 1030 for them to come on, on a work night.


        That’s my issue, too!
        My BFF wants me to see bands with her, when she comes to NY, and I can’t wait to see a headliner that starts at 11:00. On a weeknight. Her kids are grown, I have a 10 year old.

        That being said, when we went to see Patti Smith at Webster Hall last December? With our old college buddies? We ran the streets until the wee hours. I didn’t get home until 7 am. The next day.

        I have a post about that night…

        Wait, did you say the Fleshtones? Like, the garage rock band from Queens? From the 70’s? Did not know they were still around. Where in Brooklyn?


        Yep, those are them. They played The Grand Victory. I think it was a record release party.

        I’ve had those nights. sometimes I miss them.
        Mostly, I’m glad I lived through them. 😉


        WOW! Big props to them for still rocking out!

        I just know we’re going to bump into one another a show one of these nights…

        And YES.. Here’s to having lived through the folly of our youth. (not that you’re old, but you know what I mean).


      YES. The “pezhead.”
      Wait – can’t we come up with something even worse?

      Thank you for always being there. For everyone.
      And don’t say, “I’m just this guy…”
      Bullshit! You are this amazing generous force on the blogosphere, and everyone knows it!


    Big bloggy love!!

    I am constantly amazed at how engrossed I get in your words. They tangle me up and block everything out until I get to the end and then I’m confused because why did the words stop, ;they should never stop!

    I’m sorry you are battling the depression demons right now. I think you have done the right thing by writing about them and sharing the truth with us. I know the WordPress community will come forward and support you in this battle. Together we will turn back the demons, send them running. They may be back, because that is there way, but we can kick them out for a time.

    I wonder if we all struggle from depression from time to time… I have no doubt we all have our own demons. My demon may not be depression. It may be rage, though. And how that rage manifests itself could be very similar to depression? Perhaps the aftermath of my rage could be depression, when I’m feeling at my lowest because of how I let the anger shape my thoughts and actions? Perhaps it was depression that allowed the rage to take control in the first place? Or maybe it is something else going on entirely…

    Thank you for sharing your struggles with us. Thank you for showing us the truth. I think the more we can see that others have demons too, the less the power our own have over us.


      Supposedly, depression is anger turned inwards. I don’t know. I’m not an expert.

      This was, as you know, a real struggle for me. I’m still not sure I did the right thing. But, hell, it’s up, right? So there’s no turning back now. This is me, take it or leave it.

      I’m hoping Mr. Cutter doesn’t say, “who the HELL did I let into the Alliance, and how do I rescind the invite?” Will he? hahahaha

      Big bloggy love, always. Thank you for those incredible compliments about my words, because you know the feeling is mutual.


        Have you seen the rest of the alliance? I’m pretty sure you’ll fit right in. 😉

        I have heard that before, yes – depression is anger turned inwards. Does that fit for you? Are you angry about something? … You don’t have to answer that. It’s just my way to ask questions… because I’m a fixer. I like to make sure everyone is as happy as they can possibly be.
        “This is me, take it or leave it. ” – I’ll take it! 😀


        Yes, I’ve seen the Alliance! I’m the “Queen of Snark.”

        Maybe I am angry about some stuff. Isn’t everyone? What good does that do? I’d rather be Rara, and practice unconditional love.

        Maybe it’s more like resentment.

        But resentment is a poison YOU drink…and then wait for the other person to die.

        How do I get those smiley emoticons? I feel like I need to have them to keep up with you? I’m pretty sure I have the emoticon enabler thingey on. (See how techie I am?)


        I think you aren’t getting them because I actually type them out rather than use the emoticon enabler thingy. 😉 Because, as we’ve covered, I’m lazy and like to find work arounds rather than actually solving things.

        There is a huge difference between practicing and accomplishing…

        And, also as we’ve covered before, there are lots of sides to all of us. Who is to say how we are presenting ourselves to the blogging world and if it is all of the truth.

        I know there are some arguments about anger holding us down, and the benefits of forgiving, forgetting, letting go, moving on. I don’t subsribe to that though. I think some things are unforgivable, and I hold onto them so I remember not to make those mistakes again.


        Well, some mistakes you don’t know you’ve made until you see the right way things are done. Does that make sense? And then you’re ready to let go.

        You are NOT lazy. You’re a new dad, and you are pressed for time. There’s a difference.

        I would type them out, but you seem to know more than just the plain ol’ smiley face one that I know. Is there online seminar on this?


        Hah! I’m sure you could google emoticons and see a whole slew of fun ones. I typically only use: the super happy or laughing smiley: 😀 | the sad faced, not sure what to say one: :-/ | the winking smiley: 😉 | and, my favorite, the your silly so I stick my tongue out at you smiley: 😛

        I agree, and it makes sense. There are some mistakes that are definitely forgivable and can be let go afterwards.

        I’m a new dad, and I’m lazy. 😉


        You may be the Jester, but you’re the King Of Emoticons.


        Well, if you think about it, those sort of do go together, don’t they?

        Big Bloggy ❤ (heart = love, or heart, or whatever…)


    You wash your hair! You go wash the crap out of it! (Hopefully not literally.)

    And wait…the stuff they sell at Marshalls isn’t cool? Crap, this likely means that I wasn’t cool in high school..sigh…

    (BTW, did you get my email yesterday?)


    Samara, you are amazing. Just amazing. This post was amazing. The fact that you’re suffering, however, fucking blows.

    I’ve been there a few times. Lost in the darkness, fog so thick I could slash through it with a machete. A hell so intense it took every ounce of energy I had just to get my ass outta bed in the morning. A pain so far-reaching the slightest bit of food hitting my stomach made me wretch.

    You will get through this, as I got through mine. Being around my children always cleared away some of the fog for me. Enough to see what I needed to do for my children. I found ways to numb the pain until the pain went away. You’re right that I’ve never self-harmed. My problem wasn’t that I felt nothing, it was that I felt EVERYTHING and it paralyzed me, which is why I self-medicated. To numb what I was feeling.

    You know where I am if you need me. You know I’ve got your back. You know I understand. Though you’re many miles away, I still consider you a friend and as such I’ve got your back.



      I know you’ve been there. It’s what drew me to you in the first place. I saw someone who had experience what I have, in the past, but who was brave enough to blog about it.

      My kid clears away the fog. By default. I have to be ON for him; that’s just the way it works. We spent way too much time watching the Olympics in my bed, but whatever. He was happy. Like I said, whatever life force I have, he gets.

      Thank you. For saying this post was amazing. For always being there. For having my back. For hugs. For everything.

      I’ve had a few false starts in the blogosphere, but I am really learning the meaning of friendship. I could cry right now. Wait, I AM crying.


        Well, at least you’re feeling. That’s something.

        I’ve had my own false starts here. Some very recently. I think we’re all learning here. The hard way.

        Just keep swimming. I’ll be here if you need to reach out.

    ceruleanstarshine February 28, 2014 at 3:35 pm

    I will come sit by you, and hold your hand, and tell terrible jokes to distract you from the images that taunt you. I know how hard it can be to shake them off. Sometimes, you just can’t. No matter how hard you try.

    You matter, for a million reasons I know of just from reading this and even more to the people who know you in real life. Much hugs,



      You are always there. I wish you had a blog.

      I love terrible jokes. Did you read the beginning of this post? I say the most inappropriate shit.

      And I’m sorry you know about those images. Thank you for telling me I matter. I feel like it, today, for the first time in a while. Hugs to you, too.

      And even though you don’t have a blog,
      Big bloggy love, coming at you!


    OK, I am fairly new to reading your blog so I don’t really know you, but your blog sucked me in when I found it and I couldn’t stop reading. And this post, I don’t know exactly what to say. You should be proud. Like ridiculously proud. This took guts. It was searing and raw and real. Not many people could put this out there. I hope that doing this offers you some kind of peace… I know writing is what saves me when I’m struggling. Only I’m not brave enough to share my deepest stuff. I am in awe of you right now and wanted you to know that you’ve got supporters and people rooting for your that you probably never even knew about. Oh, and Lenny. He was bad ass. One of my favorite albums of all time. I saw him in concert after this album came out and hung out by his tour bus afterwards like a lame groupie who couldn’t get in the door. When he finally came out to get on the bus he had a giant knit Dr. Seuss looking hat. And he still looked hot even with the goofy hat. I wish he’d get back to that music. Sitting On Top of the World is one of the best songs. Ever. All the best to you…


      Hi! Welcome. Pour yourself a cup of chai tea, or a glass of wine. It’s Friday, and 5:00 somewhere.

      Thank you so much for your support. It means a lot to me. It was incredibly hard for me to write this, but I had a lot of wonderful blogger friends behind me. They had my back. They still do.

      Lenny Kravitz – I can’t say enough about that guy. And yes, he did wear those silly hats. I actually was in a store in NYC and he came in, and I almost peed myself. And I don’t get excited about famous people, because (not to sound jaded) but you do see them quite a bit in NYC. But this was Lenny. And he was HOT. I loved all his music, but this record? The way he drew from so many influences? That hodge podge homage to everyone he ever listened to? This is my favorite.

      Music is such a healing and uniting force. This record – it’s just doing it for me this week. It just IS.

      Looking forward to getting to know you better.


    I’m a first call for someone who has depression. I try always to reply and be there and reply again, for what it’s worth. Thank you for helping me understand this better. And for the record, no one else with kids to raise is washing their hair, or remembering what they signed or knowing what day they do or don’t have school or what time they get picked up on a half day. Who has the brain capacity for all that crap? I don’t. Your stinky hair is safe here. And three out of four of my kids will lie and tell you it smells better dirty anyway.


      Yay, Jennifer Groeber is HERE!

      Okay, first – I’m going to act like a big groupie and tell you that your blog is amazing. That post you wrote about your brother just did me in.

      I love that your first call for someone depressed. You must be an amazing friend.

      Thanks for making me feel better about forgetting stuff, but I only have ONE kid. You have four. How can you even remember their names?
      Can we trade stories on how much we screwed up stuff with them? Cause I brought my kid back to school one year two days early.

      And yesterday when I backed out of the garage? I forgot to open it first. Bam!
      Your turn.


    I am struggling to find the words to express the depth of respect I have for you right now, as a person, to open your heart in such a visceral manner. Your words transcend vibrant imagery and assault the senses so profoundly that I can see your demons, I can hear your cries, I can smell your fear and taste your desperation…alas, I can not hold you until it leaves…I would…

    Providence has beaten me again and the time difference means I’m late to the party but you should know that when I awoke not an hour ago you were on my mind…I was worried…and then I read this…now I’m not. Welcome to the land of the living when we are done oblivion.







      My REDdog friend-
      Thank you for the accolades. They warm my heart.

      As for your friendship – I must have done something right, to have inspired such loyalty. Your words gave me hope and courage. And I’m back. For now, anyway.

      LLHR always,


    Aww, Samara. If I could I would give you a big sloppy kiss and hug. I’m always happy you hit PUBLISH no matter what the post is. You are always so honest, insightful, and invigorating! Life affirming, because you don’t lie. I’ve never felt you blog has been a lie. Those women who show up dressed to the nines, oh they have their problems! I know they do. Here’s one I think you’d enjoy…I got a call from the school secretary for driving through the “Buses Only” parking lot! I almost got myself expelled, from what I don’t know. But I was in trouble. Lots of love to you. I’m here if you ever need me. Little dude is one lucky kid.


      You’re hilarious – you almost got “expelled?” You rebel, you! How dare you drive through the “Buses Only” parking lot. We can’t have that kind of unmitigated chaos, can we?

      I guess, I meant it was a lie because I wasn’t willing to share this struggle. And then I decided to.

      I’m still not sure how I feel about it. But it’s done.

      Thank you for the love. Right back at ya!


        She even told the principal on me, Samara!!!! Oh, gawd!! I couldn’t believe it.

        I think it’s a great thing you did here. You have such a warm, loving, caring community here. I think you’ll find if you reach out, people are here for you, me included. Please contact me anytime, even just to chat!

        Much love, Amy xoxo


        See, people who do that – report you to the principal – HAVE TOO MUCH EFFING TIME ON THEIR HANDS!!

        Man, I wish you lived around here. We would have some good times. And I love the offer. Don’t be surprised to find me in your inbox (which sounds dirty, but isn’t)


    than that director of Pulp Fiction, what’s his name, and him wearing a Kangol was how the term “asshat” was invented.

    You know it gets worse, right?



      I hate that shit. When rich white people act “ghetto.” You’re not cool, dude. You’re an idiot.

      You make great movies. But. Stop. It. Just talk normally. I grew up in the fricking projects and I don’t talk like that. Assclown.


    You matter, big-time, Samara. Even in your deepest depths, you can sit there, ingest too much jalapeno salsa, blow snot bombs and entertain the Little Dude. Who else, but you? Only you.

    Keep working to kick the crap out of that 1, 2 and 3.

    Please. For Little Dude, and all of us here on WordPress that love you. Look at all the comments, would you? People don’t care like that for people that don’t matter.


      Mark, you’re an integral part of my blogging family. So now you’re stuck with me!

      I love that – blowing snot bombs, and entertaining Little Dude – yes, he’d probably be really happy if I threw a few farts in there, right? Ugh. Boys. Gross.

      I’m working on 1, 2 and 3 – I’m a work in progress. That’s cool with you, right?


        You know it, Samara, progress is good. LIve and learn and live some more. You got it.


        I told you this post might surprise you!

        A “darker” side to Samara.

        But I’m ready for a little snark, I think. Yep. Live and learn.


        You have danced around your darker side in various posts, Samara, but you let it all loose this time. I damn sure hope it was cathartic for you.

        And when you feel like snarking, snark you will, I am sure of that.

        Smile and laugh, too, because life is all of the above.




        The interesting thing is, what I love the most is writing funny stuff.

        I actually, despite the gravity of the subject matter, cracked myself up several times while writing this. I’m my own best audience!

        I have a bunch of funny stuff lined up. Kinda snarky potty mouthed humor. Like…well, me. I think I just needed to get this out of the way. I felt like I was living a lie, pushing out snark and hanging around here like Night of the Living Dead.

        Man, I sure hope it was cathartic for me, too. Fuck! What if it wasn’t?
        I’m deleting this post in a week…hahahahaha


        Keep us on our toes, Samara.


    and he fidgets with SO MUCH SHIT he’d make Ghandi want to punch a cow.

    I have trouble picturing a fat, slightly balding effeminate mestizo gay man punching a cow.

    Oh. You meant Mahatma Gandhi. You probably have no idea who I’m talking about. But it’s this dude Cimmy and I know. I went to high school with him. Ghandi is his self-taken nickname. He spells it just like that.


      Yes, I meant Mahatma Ghandi!
      How on earth would I know some dude you and Cimmy went to high school with?

      And why did he take that nickname?
      Was “Martin Luther King” already in play?


        I have no idea. He doesn’t look a thing like either of them.


        So what was UP with the name? Dude, you’re totally keeping me hanging here!


        I genuinely don’t know! It’s like I somehow stumbled on the easter egg of Samara’s blog: “Hey jak, if you mention this story about how this guy you know calls himself Ghandi, you’ll have her rapt attention for hours!”

        Honest, I’m not trolling you– I honestly have no idea. He just started calling himself that on the Internet by the time Cimmorene met him– I think it was when we were part of the Camarilla (now Mind’s Eye Theater) live action roleplay (LARP). No, I don’t have a good story about his nickname, just bizarre stories of him dressing badly in drag for game.


        Well, Jak – you have to admit – that’s a pretty unusual nickname. Yeah, you kinda got my attention with that one.

        I don’t know that many teenagers who name themselves for historically famous pacifists who starved themselves for national peace.
        Usually, they go with names like “AJ.”


        At my school, two-initial nicknames were for the jocks, that I can recall.



        like F. U.

        Jocks. They peak in high school. Just so you know.


        Yeah, I know. They fade pretty quickly to the background, in my experience.


    You’re not am imposter. There is nothing wrong with filtering what you show, creating a persona or even taking artistic license with facts as a literary device or simply to entertain. We are not naive, and the truth we read is not always what you intended to show.

    There is a limitless amount of other wonderful stuff that we could be reading instead of your blog, but here we all are. For you.


      Welcome. I feel honored that you’re here for me. I don’t believe we’ve met? I’m Samara.

      “All writing is betrayal” – is that true, then?

      I want my blog to be the truth of who I am. And I just felt that I could hide behind snarky remarks all day, and it would be a lie.
      Now I’ve shown the truth. For whatever that’s worth. But at least it’s TRUTH.


        Hi Samara. Yes I’m new here, and in blogland. No blog myself, I’m a commenter not a creator.

        Depression brought me here:
        1. As you wrote, personal hygiene slips. (Each day I at least make the 20 metre journey to the letterbox and have a good wash even if I don’t feel worth the hot water for a shower).
        2. Shaving slips too. My long-lost beard reappear’d, so someone sent me a link to Nicki’s famous “bearded hipsters” post.
        3. After devouring Nikki’s blog I started munching on the links to interesting commenters e.g. Calamity Rae, Aussa Lorens and yourself.

        I’ve only read half your posts so far but they are like a good seafood chowder, full of piquant phrases and savoury sentences. You write powerfully and about interesting stuff. (Wow, are there really people who haven’t heard of Patti Smith?)

        I’m not sure that “all writing is betrayal” but the stuff I’m finding interesting at the moment is very personal so the author does tend to get revealed regardless of intention.
        For this kind of writing the author may as well be honest, there is little point to it otherwise. Thank you for this post, it is human and funny and not at all depressing.

        I used to read Great Literature, then technical stuff and current affairs, and now I read the blogs of some crazy folk at the other end of the world, for their sanity.

        There’s a thought, my time zone might be useful. UCT+1300, I’m in New Zealand. If you need to talk to someone when all your real friends are asleep (or you’ve worn them out) get in touch and I’ll send a number & Skype address. I work from home and stay up late so am pretty available.


        Welcome to my blog, and to my world. Hang on for the ride.

        I’m incredibly flattered that you plowed through so many of my posts. Piquant and savory like good chowder? I’ll take it.

        Yes, there are many people who don’t know Patti. It fucking kills me. She is why I’m the way I am.

        I feel like all writing IS betrayal, although I can’t remember writing it. The most popular blogs are entertainment focused, not deep self exploration. And we all want to be popular, eh? I took a big risk exposing myself like this. I’m regretting it, at the moment.

        Pardon my ignorance, but what is UCT + 1300?

        Thank you for your support. It means so much.


        You were regretting this piece? But is is the truth, which was the point, and it easily pays it’s way in entertainment, and it makes many of us feel less alone – thanks for all that.

        “UCT +1300” was wrong, the abbrev. should be UTC. UTC is the acronym for Coordinated Universal Time, which for most of us is near enough to GMT, Greenwich Mean Time.

        It is an interesting story if you are nerdy:


        I AM nerdy, and that was very interesting. So, that would make me UTC – 500. So, does that mean New Zealand is 18 hours ahead? Is it already Saturday 8am there?

        That’s freaking mind blowing.

        Yes, I am regretting it, at the moment. The person I was poking fun at for not being a good friend emailed me that it was spiteful, mean spirited and disingenuous.

        I literally have been paralyzed for a week. That was not the reaction I expected anyone to come away with. I thought that was such a minor point.

        I wish I could have everyone just un-read this. I would like to take it down, but that would be even more embarrassing. I’ll just cover it up with another post very soon.


        A blog post is not editable? Oh, so that is why the Publish button is such a big deal.
        How about copying the previous post and comments into the body of a the new post, editing it, then deleting the old one?

        “spiteful, mean spirited and disingenuous” seems more than what you posted, or did you send supplementary spite by some other means?
        I thought you sounded hurt, angry, resentful, maybe bitter. And I don’t understand what your line on irony was referring to.

        I was concerned that you might be publicly criticising someone known to your readers on the basis of absence of a response, without speaking with them first. That would be intemperate and loose-cannony, even after you gave fair warning to all three parties in your “Confessions of a Project Girl” post: “…WHO CAN I HURT BACK? It’s bullshit. Nobody wins. I fail everyone, including myself”.

        Fix this mess! The golden rule of miscommunications is not to try to fix it on the same level as it was created – use a higher quality channel. The lowest quality channel is public text. The highest is face to face with no audience, distractions or interruptions.
        If the channel involves effort or expense, great! It demonstrates that you care. Nothing says sorry like a bag of home made cookies delivered in person to another city.
        And if they are not prepared to use a higher quality channel then they were not a friend in the first place.


        I was calling someone out that no one would know but me-
        I made sure that this person would not be recognizable.

        The line on irony was in reference to his lack of empathy and compassion for me in my dark place – juxtaposed with how he blogs about kindness and compassion.

        I am TRYING to fix this mess.

        But this person does not have much invested in the friendship. He claims to want very much to repair our friendship.

        And then promptly forgets all about it. Just leaves the discussion hanging in mid air.

        So there you have it. Painful.

        However, I’m actually finally un-paralyzed for the first time since he raked me over the coals for that silly little bit of nonsense in my post.

        Thanks to the support of again, other bloggers.

        So I’m writing again. Thank God. Because without it, I will die.


        Yay for unblockage!

        Now I’m feeling guilty for years of patchy communication with my own friends in times of need, possibly I’m more of a heel than your chap.

        And yes NZ is very progressive, 18 hours ahead of EST during our summer.
        Some dorkfulness before the millenium got crazy extra kinks put in the International Date Line but really NZ and Fiji are first to see the sun each day.


        New post up. And a crazy one at that.

        The support I got from another blogger – was to Write Free! So I did.

        Let’s see what happens now…


    You’re the Queen of Snark, Samara. And you’re definitely not an impostor. And I know that, because I personally crowned you, remember?
    By the way, this gremlins ears would make a nice ornament for the crown, don’t you think?


      I absolutely know that I was crowned Queen of Snark by you – and when I claim my crown, and join the Alliance of the Damned, I shall credit you with having given me that title.

      Because you are the BEST.

      Regarding the gremlin’s ears – NO. Just NO.


        You are the BEST, too. Wait, can we both be the BEST? I think we can. We’re the BEST, we make the rules (but you’re still the Queen).
        I’m sorry, I just don’t like this gremlin and I want to do something bad to him.


        I am feeling very sadistic at the moment. Like, does this gremlin have a blog which we can hijack and leave mean-spirited comments there?



        Don’t tempt me, X.

        I’m trying to be a Nice Person.

        I can’t picture you feeling sadistic. Did you eat too many tomatoes?


        I eat too many everything, if you believe my bathroom scale.
        I’m usually able to control myself very well, but I’m very allergic to gremlins trying to attack my friends.


        Well, that particular gremlin lives in my head. So there’s nothing you can do about him. Unless you want to beat me about the head. Ouch.

        He’s veeerrry quiet tonight.

        Now, there have been some WordPress gremlins, but they’re also strangely quiet. Listen…



        No, I don’t want to beat your about your head, totally out of the question. (Gremlin, this is your lucky day, punk)
        Enjoy the silence, Samara.
        I’ll be off, I’ll need to catch up on some sleep, because the circles under my eyes are probably as dark as yours.


        It’s 2 am!!

        We BOTH need sleep.

        Goodnight, X. See you on the flip side.


    You know, you and I are fairly new to each other, but remember recently when you commented on something I wrote and in my response I called you Sweet Samara? That came to me automatically, unconsciously because of the light you shine just by your presence. Some people are so beautiful they have the power to do that in this virtual world. Beth, Jennie and Rara to name a few more also display this light. I don’t know how else to explain it, but it’s a connection. You may be drowning in darkness, but you should revel in your strength because you clearly have a force inside that’s much stronger.

    And for this post itself, a review of the writing and words leaves me with one word:Powerful. Actually, it should be more like “Holy shit that was powerful.” So, 5 words. 🙂 Your writing is inspiring, raw, emotional and beautiful.

    And finally, YOU MATTER.



      I feel exactly the same way about you – that you have a certain light in the blog world.

      I felt it when I met those women you just named. They’re amazing, aren’t they?

      And I feel it now.

      So we’ll be blog sisters, okay?

      Thank you for those amazing things you said about my writing. I took a great leap of faith with this one – but my friends really felt it would ultimately, be healing for me.

      I love hearing that I matter. Especially all in CAPS.



        I needed that today. So, thank you. It’s just more proof that you are needed and welcomed in ways you may not see.

        Blog sisters sounds perfect.

        You deserve it and I truly hope it’s healing. I’m quite sure that writing has saved me on more than one occasion. I’ve traveled down some dark roads myself and I understand.

        I’m always here. And, I mean that.



    To know we are not alone may be the most comforting truth in dark times. I love your blog, always have. And I love it even more when you bear all your crap and hit publish.

    You have me laugh out loud and well up with tears from the comments you’ve made on my blog. When you said once that Little Dude requested to read mine I was crying over my coffee.

    I’m welling up writing this because I can feel your pain with depression but I can also feel your passion and light. It really is radiant. See how many people you have touched?

    I have had that nasty gremlin jab at me. A couple weeks ago even. And I can relate to your fantasies. I imagined myself walking, dead-eyed and beaten from the nasty monster’s words, into a freshwater lake infested with alligators.

    This week the gremlin is far away on vacation and I hope to God he’s not coming back.

    I want to thank you for sharing yourself with us. And thank you for taking time to comment on our stories. Past the darkness there is light. I’ll try and remember to give myself my own advice if the time comes.

    I’m here for you, too.


      Jen my love-
      You were one of my first blog sisters.

      And just so you know, I am lazy and have blog awards to be distributed, and I plan on giving some to you.

      Little Dude and I still read your blog. All the time, girl. We don’t comment, because (ssshhh) he doesn’t know my blog personna. So, if he saw me comment, he’d know who I was. There are some things a mom has to hide from a 10 year old. He thinks I write a blog that has to do with my job. I should just go back and comment, or hit “like.” so you know I was there.

      So, you live in Florida – and your gremlin leads you into alligator infested lakes? I guess it’s all site-specific, girl.

      I’m so happy you’re here, on this post. It’s been a minute. And I’m really glad your gremlin is on vacation. Hope he never comes back.

      mad love,


    Samara, you are definitely not alone sister. I’m dealing with this depression fucker and OCD too. Funny, I am currently writing about it too as I’ve felt I’ve hidden it for way too long to live (and blog) authentically.

    You say it like it is. You make me laugh. When you hit Publish, my lady balls jingle. You have something to say, and you matter.

    Much peace.


      Oh my God, I love you!

      Your lady balls jingle? yay!!

      I want to read more about you. I know you suffer from depression and I want to know you more.

      I don’t suffer from it all the time, but when it hits, I hide it. And I feel like I’m such a fraud. I’ll be darting around, making jaunty comments – and meanwhile, I haven’t bathed in a week and I’ve been crying all day…

      So I took a chance. And I thank you for the support.



    Warning: graphic

    “I don’t like asking for help.” I hear that, sister. A favor is just a debt wearing a bow tie.

    “if I could feel my vagina” Fun fact: I was so depressed through adolescence that my first orgasm was at 22 years of age.

    You’ll come back to us, Samara. You’re meant to, always. It’s home.



      You are a writer. Damn. “A favor is just a debt wearing a bow tie”
      I wish you blogged.

      Thank you sister, I’m already back. It is home.



    Hey Samara, hope you’re doing okay. Listen, as one of the real shining lights in this blog world, I hope you stay right here and keep writing, because you always have something worth reading. Took me near half an hour to scroll down to the bottom of these comments, so I know I’m not the only one that feels that way. I can’t and won’t pretend to know what you’re dealing with, but the fact that you’re open to talking about what ails you speaks to your courage, and I hope that you find nothing but support from this wonderful community. You certainly have mine. Without question.

    So if it would make you feel better, the offer to firebomb a car still stands. I know it would make me feel better. I figure there would be no better partner in crime than you. I’ll bring the scotch, you bring the jerry can, and let’s get down to business.


      Dude, you ALWAYS know what to say!

      Yeah, I feel much better. I wouldn’t have been able to push this bad boy out if I didn’t. I had a lot of prodding from some like-minded members of the community to kind of “get it all out there.” So I did.

      But, damn – I like the FUNNY OUTRAGEOUS shit! That’s my thing. So, that’s where I’m headed next.

      And, yeah, we’ve been virtual Bonnie and Clyde since my first post. Let’s firebomb some douche mobiles (my friend’s nickname for pretentious luxury vehicles) – just to generate a little heat up in here!

      Rage ON, dude!


        Figure we could use some heat right now. Nothing’s more cathartic than some firebombing, especially on those douche mobiles.

        Give me some outrageous shit, S. I know you got it in you.


    I get depressed ALL THE TIME.
    Tell you what: We’ll cheer each other up over a 5×5 post as soon as I find some time this month to send 5 questions your way.
    Sound good?


      Mr. Hook. I would be HONORED.

      Do you really fight depression? I’m coming out of it, and finding my way back to my old snarky self. Yay, me!


        I’ve never been clinically diagnosed, but I have darkness in my past springing from events I’d rather forget – but never will.
        This darkness threatens to overtake me at times, but I have a great family, loyal friends, and a writing hobby to draw light from, so I’m good most of the time.

        We’ll talk soon about your questions. I promise.


    The new header looks FABULOUS. 🙂


    I made it. You’re not alone. I’m getting the feeling that WP is just a platform for crazies all around the world to unite. It’s quite beautiful, really. Beautifully sad. But beautiful nonetheless.


      Wow. Thank you. For making it here.

      I don’t feel alone, after this. But this was brutally hard. I’m not sure I could post like this again.

      And yes, it’s been suggested to me that WP is just comprised of people with issues. In one form or another.

      I have to make sure to connect with your blog more often.


    I am late to this, but certainly there is no shortage of connection, identification, empathy, soul support and deep-from-the-dharma-gut interaction and light-shedding on your post. You are certainly not alone, as my own peeps are apt to say at times like this (which is, *all* the time). You are bathed in the light and glory from your fellows here. Go with that, even if the gremlin wants to haul their asses to the lawn and beat them with a garden gnome.

    I had depression. Went on 3-4 different kinds in my time. All had side effects that I didn’t like. Oh wait, oops, I was drinking like a fish while on them. No wonder they didn’t work. Oopsy. Depression is one major side effect of untreated alcoholism. Ta da! Fine times, my dear. What subway station would I pick to jump from, catching the speeding subway just as it entered the station, still emcumbered by the velocity and weight that would easily turn me into human coleslaw. I had a list, thank you very much. Trimmed it down to five stations. And this was when I was sober. Two months in, actually.

    So, I had to learn to do some work on those bastards, depression and alcoholism…holding hands while frolicking on the River Styx (not River Kravitz – would have been a touch hipper). It’s been some time now since I ditched my last batch of anti-depressants and have had that dark moods.

    Now, I mention that because I understand those moments. Many guys have fantasties of threesomes and suped up cars. I had fantasies of blowing my brains out in a field. Of standing in front of a truck on the highway. Of lifting myself off a bridge onto the creek below (only problem is I don’t like heights). So these moments carved me up and scoop out my soul like a Halloween pumpking. They almost felt right…and yet, I knew deep down, they weren’t right. I had something on my side that moved me from those plans and fantasies. I had a connection to something else…the same thing that moved me from the booze.

    I have dipped my toe into the states that you describe so viscerally. They feel odd now, but yet so comfortable. But I deny the gremlin his time. I deny the self-absorption. I deny the food that it needs to grow. But this is for me. I don’t have clinical depression, so i can’t speak to that. Therapy is something I did for over a decade, and it helped in many facets. We all have a path. You are on yours.

    I have no wise words, no real advice, no tangible ways to see the light, other than to say that grasping towards the light, pulling it towards you like a warm blanket on a cold night, is something we crave, but are blocked. But move pass that block.

    The number one thing that gets me out of my depressive, isolating, self-pitying ways is a simple one. And it works for me. I reach out to others. that’s the whole point of my blog, Samara. I reach out. I reach out on other blogs. I share my story, I shed my blood, I sweep up the ugliness into a ball in my hand and share it with all. It’s me, yo. Take it or not. But you know what? People get it, and when they do…man, do I get out of me. What a gas. What a way to be of service.

    Anyway, I am on a bit of a blog hiatus, but some how I got pulled here and needed to comment. It was designed, if you will. Who am I to argue? I know I got something out of the post and the comments. What it is…it will be revealed sooner than later for me. And for you too, I hope 🙂

    Be well. thank you for sharing. And congrats on your new title with the Avengers (or whatever they are called) 🙂



      I really needed to read this.

      I just got a little lighter. Felt a little better.

      I actually was really coming out of this by the time I wrote it. Unfortunately, one of the side effects of having written this is…I think I regret it?

      Someone had a not great reaction to this post. And at the moment, it has paralyzed me. I’m feeling pain and fear again. So I am reaching out to other bloggers. And they are letting me lean on them. Just as you are, here.

      I feel as though if I don’t write something soon, I might die. I wish I wasn’t so paralyzed. What an odd feeling. To need to write, and yet – to be frozen. Bizarre.

      But your unexpected comment helped. Your comments always help. I hope your hiatus is just a little vaca, and nothing serious…


        Funny you talk about the one somewhat poor response. I could be in a room of 200 people, and 199 of them are all telling me how groovy I am (and I can be groovy at times, but not always), and then there will be that one person who says “meh – I’ve seen better”. Well, guess which one I am taking home with me in my head? Hmmmmm…

        this is what I “collecting the ones”, as I spent my whole life carrying all those “ones”. And they ate me up from the inside out. I had to learn that it’s not mine to take on. If someone has a not-so-great reaction to *my* post, well, that’s not mine to take on. Obviously I don’t want to offend, but in the end, it’s not my shit to take on. Period. I can’t take responsibility for how someone sees my way or how I write, or whatever it is that is my authentic self. It sounds uncaring, but in fact, it’s about boundaries and self-love. I care too much, in fact, and can’t take on everyone’s pain…I have had enough of my own, thank you! I would drown in taking it all on…something I have done in the past.

        So don’t let it paralyze you. The comments from the other 199 show that you were well to do what you wrote. Touched a lot of folks. Bending and shaping your own truth so that it fits nicely into everyone else’s just causes you to lose yourself, and for a guy like me, it starts to get the resentment machine going. not good news. So stay to your authentic voice, m’lady. 🙂

        We write because we feel the pull to. that is why I do it as well. I can’t draw or sculpt or paint or anything else. Useless. But I find that hacking some words out…well, that brings the bliss, doesn’t it, for us?

        (and on that note, that is what my little hiatus is about – I am in the process of writing a novel, and need a break so that I can get a good headwind on it. I am also training for a half-marathon…so time is my enemy. I wish there were 30 hours in a day! So, I might lurk now and then…and I am still on the Twitter, as you noticed…welcome)

        Peace out


        Yes, I did notice you are on the Twitter, but 140 characters does not do you justice-

        So thank you for taking the time to lurk. And to remind me that I should not let one voice shame me. But then again, perhaps I should not have shamed that one voice in my post?

        I suppose I brought that negativity upon myself. I got the opposite reaction of what I was expecting, but then again – don’t we often?

        Pain’s a bitch. Thanks for listening. Again.


    I hate that you’re going through this. I’m thrilled to see the impressive support network you have here.

    I’ve been reading your blog a lot the last few days. I love it. Thank you for sharing.

    p.s. : I had to look up slump buster.


      Thank you so much.
      A slump buster – you know. Someone you get with – to break a slump. No other reason. Hahaha
      Feeling better, though.
      Do you blog? I think I’ve seen you on something. Twitter?

        Montaigne Jones March 10, 2014 at 11:32 pm

        Twitter, I tweeted a link to your Slut Mom post, and we were both tweeting w/ mollytopia during the divorce party.

        Setting up a blog, but debating if I can be candid enough to make it worth doing.

When I see the orange light, I have a BLOGASM...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s