Tag: mental-health

Posted in adhd in women, book editor, Menopause, mental-health, Perimenopause, Womanhood

Perimenopause Isn’t a Phase … It’s a Plot Twist

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Nobody warned me perimenopause was going to feel like:

•being too hot and too cold at the same time

•crying because a commercial was “too meaningful”

•rage-cleaning the kitchen like I’m in an action movie

•forgetting why I walked into a room … while also remembering every embarrassing thing I’ve ever done since birth

It’s like my hormones are holding a meeting without me, and every decision is chaos.

And sure, you can slap a “self-care” sticker on it. But sometimes the self-care is just not fighting a stranger in the grocery store because they breathed near you.

What Perimenopause Really Feels Like

Some days it’s subtle … a little more tired, a little more irritable. Other days it’s like my body wakes up and chooses a random setting from the control panel of hell:

Mood: fragile raccoon with a grudge

Sleep: never heard of her

Memory: buffering … buffering … gone

Body temp: haunted thermostat

Patience: expired in 2009

And the hardest part isn’t even the symptoms.

It’s the way the world acts like you’re supposed to keep functioning at full capacity while your hormones are out here playing Jenga with your nervous system.

“Am I Crazy?” No. You’re Becoming a New Version of You.

Let me say this clearly …

You’re not “crazy.”

You’re not “too much.”

You’re not “losing it.”

You’re in a biological plot twist.

Your body is doing a huge internal renovation and nobody handed you the manual. Meanwhile, you still have to show up for life like nothing is happening.

So if you’ve been feeling unlike yourself lately, if your emotions are louder, your energy is lower, your tolerance for nonsense is nonexistent …

That’s not a character flaw.

That’s hormones, stress, sleep disruption, and your nervous system waving a little white flag.

Closing

So here’s your reminder (and mine)

You’re not broken. You’re evolving. And if today all you can do is drink water, take your vitamins, and not commit a felony …

That counts. 💅

Posted in book editor, mental-health

Stop Calling Me Strong: I’m Tired, Babe

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You ever notice how “strong” always sounds like a compliment, but somehow ends up feeling like a curse?

Like … thanks, I guess?

But what you really mean is:

“I know life keeps sucker punching you, but I fully expect you to eat your feelings, smile pretty, and keep carrying the weight of everyone else’s emotional baggage, in heels, with lashes on … while gaslit into thinking you should be grateful for the resilience.”

Yeah. No.

Let’s talk about it.

Being “strong” became my identity. And then it became my prison.

I was the girl who handled everything. Independent. Capable. “So mature for her age.”

The problem?

No one thought to help me. They just assumed I’d figure it out.

Being the strong one means people stop asking if you’re okay.

They assume you always are.

Even when you’re not.

Even when you’re breaking.

And if you do crack under pressure?

They look at you like you’ve betrayed them.

Like the mascot of emotional survival wasn’t supposed to have human limits.

Strength is not silence. It’s not self-sacrifice. It’s not smiling through trauma.

I am tired of being called strong as a way to avoid supporting me.

I’m not a superhero. I’m not a martyr.

I’m a woman who has survived shit she shouldn’t have had to.

And I’m exhausted.

What if I want to be soft today?

What if I need to fall apart?

What if I just want to scream-cry into a void and then take a nap while someone else makes the damn decisions?

That doesn’t make me weak.

That makes me human.

So here’s your permission slip:

You don’t have to perform strength to be worthy. You can cry, rage, rest, and ask for help. You can set that “strong woman” cape down and say: “I’m not doing it all today. Try someone else.”

Because strong isn’t the goal.

Alive is.

Peaceful is.

Unbothered, hydrated, and left the hell alone is.

And that, babe?

That’s the kind of power no one can take from you.

Posted in mental-health, writing

Self-Care Isn’t Bubble Baths—It’s Survival Magic

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Section 1: What Self-Care Really Looks Like

Forget the aesthetic Instagram posts.

Self-care can look like:

Crying in the shower because you finally let yourself feel it. Cancelling plans because burnout is whispering, “Please.” Setting a boundary and not over-explaining it. Making a to-do list that just says “wake up + survive.”

And yes, sometimes it is curling up with a book and a face mask.

But real self-care is less about pretty and more about permission.

Section 2: The Self-Care We Don’t Talk About Enough

Here’s the stuff we often skip:

Mental care: Going to therapy, taking your meds, journaling your rage instead of texting your ex. Emotional care: Letting yourself be soft. Or angry. Or silent. Digital care: Muting, blocking, deleting—and walking away from screens when they start screaming instead of soothing. Social care: Choosing people who don’t make you question your worth.

Section 3: A Self-Care Survival Kit (That Doesn’t Cost Money)

A playlist that makes you feel like a goddess in a hoodie 3 trusted people who let you be unfiltered A tiny ritual: morning coffee, evening stretch, whispering “I’m doing my best” to yourself in the mirror Saying “no” like it’s a full sentence (because it is)

Section 4: Final Reminder

You don’t owe anyone your sparkle when you’re just trying to hold it together.

Self-care isn’t selfish.

It’s how you stay alive in a world that keeps demanding more.

So light the damn candle, but also protect your peace like it’s sacred.

Because it is.

And so are you.

Posted in adhd in women, book editor, writing

Anxiety & ADHD: The Ultimate Frenemy Duo

Posted on by There for You Editing

Some days, I’m a productivity queen.

Other days, I stare at my to-do list like it personally betrayed me and then spiral because I forgot to answer an email from 4 days ago and now I’m convinced everyone hates me.

Welcome to the magical clusterfuck of living with ADHD and anxiety—the mental equivalent of a glitter bomb and a fire drill happening at the same time.

It’s not that we don’t care.

It’s that we care so much it fries our brains.

We want to do all the things, perfectly, immediately … but we forget, get overwhelmed, or freeze because our brains have too many browser tabs open, and one of them is playing music we can’t find.

What helps? Not fixing yourself.

Because spoiler: you were never broken.

You were just never taught how to work with a brain like yours.

So here’s your permission slip:

You can take breaks without guilt.

You can use sticky notes, alarms, and chaos rituals to get through the day.

You can laugh at the mess and still love yourself.

Healing doesn’t mean becoming someone else.

It means learning to hold space for the badass, forgetful, anxious, sparkly goblin that you are. And showing up for her with compassion—especially on the days she feels like a disaster.

Posted in book editor, mental-health

Mentally, I’m Here

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Mentally, I’m here.

On a creaky porch beside a quiet river. Wrapped in the scent of pine and coffee. My phone’s nowhere in sight, and the only sound is pages turning and the occasional bird judging me for crying over fictional characters again.

The world slows down in places like this. It breathes softer. And so do I.

This is my fantasy: a good book, a hot mug, and a quiet escape from the chaos. No expectations, no deadlines, just stories and stillness.

Because sometimes healing looks like hiding.

And sometimes rest looks like reading.

What does rest look like to you? Where are you mentally today?

Posted in adhd in women, book editor, Life in your forties

ADHD in Women, Or Why My Brain Is a Computer with 87 Tabs Open, All Buffering

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I came. I saw. I forgot what I was doing and cried in my car.

If you’re a woman who’s ever put your phone down mid-text and never found it again (until it rang from inside the fridge) welcome. You might have ADHD. Or what I like to call: Hot Mess Brain with Bonus Features.

We’re not talking about the bouncing-off-the-walls kid stereotype. No, no. Female ADHD is the ✨limited edition✨ adult version, complete with:

Olympic-level procrastination, 3,000 unfinished projects, emotional breakdowns because your sock feels weird, and a deep, soul-crushing shame spiral because someone asked you to “just make a list.”

ADHD in Women: The Sneaky Ninja Edition

When we were little, people didn’t notice. We weren’t “bad.” We were weirdly talkative, always doodling, and somehow acing tests but still losing our backpack inside of our own house.

Instead of getting diagnosed, we got called:

“So creative!”

“Such a chatterbox!”

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?”

Spoiler alert: We weren’t dramatic. We were literally having a full-blown executive function meltdown because we had three assignments, zero clue where our planner went, and the overwhelming urge to alphabetize our nail polish instead of doing any of it.

Adulthood Hit Different

Fast forward to adulthood, and now you’re:

Crying over a dirty dish. Forgetting your kid’s field trip form (again). Hyperfocusing on a new hobby you’ll abandon in six days. Paralyzed by an email that’s been sitting in drafts since the Bush administration.

And everyone around you is like, “Just be more organized!”

Girl. I tried to be organized. I bought six planners. I even color-coded them. You know where they are? Under my bed. Next to the dumbbells I swore I’d use during my “fitness era.”

You’re Not Lazy, Your Brain Just Thinks It’s in a DJ Booth

ADHD brains love dopamine. We crave stimulation. That’s why we can’t clean our room … unless we trick ourselves into a 12-hour cleaning montage with music, snacks, and existential dread.

Our emotions? Turned up to 11. We cry at dog videos, spiral after one passive-aggressive text, and feel personally attacked by to-do lists.

We also love:

Interrupting people (sorry, I just had a THOUGHT and I must SHARE IT), re-reading the same sentence 8 times and still not knowing what it said, starting a new life plan at 2:34 a.m. and forgetting it by morning.

Coping Mechanisms? I’ve Got Memes and Magic

Here’s how I survive:

Use timers like I’m defusing a bomb. Pretend I’m on a reality show called “Will She Remember to Eat?” Surround myself with people who don’t judge me for sending 12 chaotic texts in a row because I forgot what I was saying halfway through. Forgive myself when my brain does That Thing™ again.

Final Thoughts (Before I Forget Them)

ADHD in women is real. It’s messy. It’s misunderstood. And it’s often missed for YEARS.

But here’s the deal: You’re not broken. You’re brilliant, hilarious, compassionate, and operating on a whole different frequency.

One minute you’re crying in the grocery store, the next you’re writing a novel in one sitting. That’s not a flaw—it’s your sparkle.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go finish that thing I started six days ago … or start something new entirely. Who knows? ADHD is an adventure.

If you relate to this blog post, you should pick up You Were Never Broken.

Posted in Books

You Were Never Broken: A Love Letter to the Women Who Feel Like a Hot Mess

Posted on by There for You Editing

Let’s just say it: life is messy.

Sometimes we’re glowing goddesses who drink green juice and journal.

Other times we’re doom-scrolling with one eye twitching and a to-do list screaming in the background.

If you’ve ever felt like you’re too much and not enough at the same time, welcome home.

You Were Never Broken isn’t just a book, it’s a deep breath, a pep talk, and a permission slip to stop apologizing for being human.

Written for the women who are tired of pretending they’ve got it all together (spoiler alert: none of us do), this book is part spiritual hug, part sarcastic rant, and part “holy crap, I needed to hear that.”

What’s Inside:

• Raw, relatable take on depression, anxiety, and ADHD

• Zero fluff, no toxic positivity—just honest tools for healing

• Empowering messages for the days when you feel like a chaotic gremlin

• A reminder that being sensitive, emotional, loud, or weird isn’t broken … it’s f*cking magical

Whether you’re mid-breakdown, mid-breakthrough, or somewhere in between, this book holds space for every version of you.

Who It’s For:

• The overthinkers

• The highly sensitive and slightly unhinged

• The women who light candles and cuss people out in traffic

• The exhausted empaths who still want to believe in magic

This is not a self-help book that tells you to “just think positive.”

It’s a mirror held up to your soul that says: Look. You made it this far. That’s not weakness, that’s power.

Final Word:

You don’t need fixing.

You don’t need to be quieter, smaller, easier to handle.

You need to be seen. Heard. Celebrated.

And this book? It’s the celebration.

You were never broken. You were always becoming.

Available on Amazon: https://amzn.to/3SZIQDL