On Being Your Mom With Depression

"This is something that parents aren’t supposed to say out loud. "

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words & image: moosh in indy

Sent in by Caroline.

Walk Without a Stick

This isn't a daily cry. This is a hysterical-fucking-bawl.

"We are here, all of us — beasts and monsters and beauties and wallflowers alike — to do the best we can. And every last one of us can do better than give up."

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It's a slow burn. Read to the end.

words: dear sugar

Sent in by Stephanie.

p.s. A bit of trivia: I was a finalist for this job, writing an advice column out of San Francisco. I'm glad she got it instead.

Our Little Quirks

I'm avoiding what's actual-for-real on my mind today, which involves west coast farming, craigslist rideshares, and starting over, over, and over again.

A quote from an email from the most charming person I have met in real life:

"Those dudes are VERY lucky to meet you, and if they don't see what's there, they don't got it. I'm drawing a line here in this sand. Those guys pre-bore me."

And so, to whoever is not appreciating you today: they pre-bore me, too.

Draw the line. Live it up. You're a gem, and you know it. Clap your hands.

image: findingmrdarcy

Lonely is a Freedom

Two separate people, neither of whom I've ever met, emailed me yesterday to say this video reminded them of me. I love it so very much.




"Lonely is a freedom that breaths easy and weightless,
and lonely is healing if you make it."

words: tanya davis
video: andrea dorfman

Sent in by Kym from Belly Story, and Christina.

In the End

image: allmylovingg

Something Beautiful

The thing that made me cry today was an email.

I won't quote the whole thing, but I wish that I could.

"One last thing. Something I figured out when my dad died, something I hold on to, something I wish for for you: out of every loss something really beautiful comes."


words: she was
image: allmylovingg

Our Bourbon and Our Couches

“We are, all of us, abominably human.

We are broken and we are flawed and even we ourselves barely recognize the degree to which this is true. And Love is this concept that, in its platonic ideal form, makes over other people and conceals those flaws and convinces us for brief moments that, Hey, perhaps this Other is not so flawed, is not broken, is not abominably just-like-me.

And then we realize they are; and then they realize we are.

But sometimes it’s just nice to be broken and flawed with someone. And it’s nice to have someone to get fucked up on bourbon and fall asleep half-naked on the couch with. And sometimes it’s nice to just pretend we’re not so flawed and broken and abominable. And it’s this concept of Love that is the problem, after all. We are broken and flawed and we created a broken and flawed concept because we have brains able to dream of things beyond ourselves and to imagine the nonexistent.

But we have our bourbon and our couches and half of our clothes, so that’s okay. It’s really all okay.”

Raymond Carver

words: love in the dumps
image: aphasiafilms