If you have ever felt hopeless, if you have ever believed that all the bad things in your life were beyond redemption, if you have ever felt unworthy of being loved or accepted, if you have ever feared what would happen if people found out whatever it is that haunts you – I get it. I have been there, too. Maybe you are recovering from abuse, addiction, or a suicide attempt like me. Maybe you are struggling with anxiety or depression and don’t know why yet. No matter what your starting point is, the tools in brand-new book, Self-Care for the Wounded Soul: 21 Days of Messy Grace will help you begin to answer the question, “Now what?”
Do you have a list of memorable conversations in your memory? Ones you wish you could go back and replay from time to time? Maybe because they were life-changing, maybe because they taught you some incredible lesson, or maybe because they made you laugh your ass off. I have had those conversations, too.
It’s been four years since my suicide attempt. For the longest time, I thought my week on the psych ward was pointless. I saw it as a frustrating waste of time. Now, I can recognize the value of what we did during those days.
I’ve always thought of myself as a Tigger, and so has everyone else. But being Tigger all the time comes with a lot of pressure. (Because he’s the only one.) So what do you do when you are typically a Tigger, but are having a down day like Eeyore or a grumpy day like Rabbit?
What would you tell your twenty-year-old self? Here’s some wisdom and grace from Sarah. To my twenty-year-old self: Oh, sweet girl, things are going to get better. You’re going to get through this. I know you don’t believe it. Everything seems shattered, as you lie gasping under the weight of searing pain. You hate yourself […]
After two days of panic attacks and a scary spike in my blood pressure, I left work early and drove myself to the doctor’s office, full of shame and anxiety. Every stop light seemed to make it worse. Although I don’t normally have road rage, the little old lady in front of me was making […]