give a damn. save a life.

If you are struggling with suicidal thoughts, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255. I hope you know we need you here.

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Humans don’t like to think about death. That word makes us uneasy. It’s the one major problem that literally all of us are faced with that we haven’t quite solved. Because no matter how much you try to put it off – you’re going to die.

Death isn’t the way things should be. You want to know how I can know that this is true? Think of the moments in your life that you wish you could pause, rewind, play on repeat forever and ever. The view from an island trail, running into the ocean, sitting on a front lawn with a ukulele, a good kiss, the perfect pancake. These are the moments that etched eternity right into your heart. You were made to crave forever.

Which is why the news lately has my heart feeling like it was chewed up, spit out, shoved it a blender and served over ice.

This summer the deaths of Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain and even Mac Miller hit me harder than expected. Celebrity makes it seem like people are untouchable, immortal. Their deaths should be evidence that depression and anxiety and addiction are real diseases that obey no rules of class, income, age, wealth, or status. No matter who it affects, whether you have billions of admirers or it’s just you making it in the world, suicide is painful. Hopelessness is a feeling both so foreign and familiar to almost every person here on earth.

It’s World Suicide Prevention Day and here are the stats: 800,000 people die from suicide globally. That’s 1 person every 40 seconds (see TWLOHA’s stats here). It’s wild to me that in the scientific sense, daily life as we know it has never been more productive, safe, and technologically advanced than years before. We are smarter, faster, stronger and I can order a dozen macarons on Uber Eats and have them delivered right to my door on a lazy Sunday night. What a time to be alive, truly.

And at the same time we’re more isolated than ever. We’re siloed in our own echo-chambers of Twitter feeds and when we see the world as we know it cracked, it leaves us confused and afraid. We keep trying to find true meaning for why we’re on this big, blue marble but instead we’re faced with a trashcan fire of terrible leadership, natural disasters, trauma, loss and no clear end to it all.

I’m not a certified therapist and I don’t have pages of research telling me how to fix the fracture that depression, death, and suicide leave on a life. But I do know that hope is hard fought for and I think that we can learn how to be better about holding the hard things about the right now with the promise of the not yet.

We can give a damn.

We can be the kinds of friends who embrace the hard conversations and aren’t just friends out of convenience. We can be the kinds of people who are willing to put down our black mirrors to see someone and go to them rather than obeying social structures that tell us to keep our distance. We can be the friends who are willing to open up our couches, our wallets, our own lives for the sake of someone else learning that they’re not all alone in this world.

We can be the kinds of friends who value our friends’ lives above our own. That might be called love. I’m going to call it giving a damn.

This isn’t to say that when someone commits suicide that we’ve failed. Far from it. Suicide is no one’s fault. I don’t have answers or a list of “should/shouldn’t do’s” and honestly, that wouldn’t be helpful. Depression is a sickness whose rules constantly change and are hard to define. What works for one person might be harmful for another. At the end of the day, people are still going to make choices and all we can do in the meantime is remind them until we run out of breath, “You’re loved you’re loved you’re loved you’re loved.”

It’s hard enough to say that you need people to remind you of this when you’re healthy. Imagine the mountain you have to climb to reach out and be honest about your pain if you’re struggling with depression and suicidal thoughts. The best way to give a damn is to let your people know that you give a damn about them. So ask your people how they’re doing. And not just the happy hour version of this filler question. The How-Are-You-Really version. The kind of honest question that begs an honest answer.

I don’t know a lot of things. I know how to poach an egg, build Ikea furniture without wanting to drink myself to death, and use an Oxford comma. I also know that when Eleven from Stranger Things said, “Friends don’t lie”… I felt that. Friends don’t lie. And friends who give a damn use their words to create a safe space to welcome the truth. Even if it seems too big or too much or too messy or too heavy for just you to hold. Friends who give a damn will hold your arms up and remind you that the weight of the world isn’t just on you to handle alone.

So if you weren’t convinced already, I give a damn about you and I hope you stay.

five more minutes.

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Four kids are on the bounce house. Three are coloring at a table. Two buddies are building the World’s Tallest Block Tower in the corner and one tiny child is staring daggers at me with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. The clip-on bow that once held back her bangs is stuck in the middle of her blonde tangles after her completion of a short tantrum routine on the ground. I was actually pretty impressed with her coordination and flexibility despite the fact that she was coughing and screaming the whole time.

I help out in my church’s Sunday School program every now and then. Me, a few other adults and a handful of 4-5 year olds kick it for an hour and a half. If you’ve met me in person, this is a hilarious image because I am not your go-to Sunday School gal. My humor is dry which doesn’t easily translate into “I’m trying to be funny to get you to like me” in kid language. I’m also constantly aware of the worst case scenario (fellow Enneagram 6’s get it), so usually I keep to myself around kids because I am preoccupied with the idea that one of them is going to inevitably break their leg under my watch and it’s on me to fashion a splint with Legos and my scarf to tide them over until we can page their parent and they’re safely returned to be held by their mothers until it’s all better. Welcome to my brain, dear readers.

But anxieties aside, I really love these kids! First of all they’re so cute. And they’re trying their hardest to figure out the world and be brave. Kind of like how I’m trying to do this too, except they haven’t failed as much yet so they’re a lot more fearless about it all.

Which brings us back to the little, tear-stained face staring at me from under a table. Homegirl was having a rough day. Okay.. rough is an understatement. She had 3 meltdowns in the course of 20 minutes, proving that kids can actually bounce back better than Big Sean.

After trying to coax her out of the table, she reached up and wanted me to hold her so I did. I wouldn’t say I’m a super comforting human but I’m not an animal. And I understand that sometimes you just need to be held. Having someone safe hold you is one of the Top 5 most underrated feelings right next to finding something you were missing.

We left the room to get a drink of water and afterwards she and I sat on the mats for a good 10 minutes. Her in my lap, me talking to her and us sharing a little moment of calm away from the beautiful, controlled chaos around us. I asked her if she was ready to go back inside the classroom when she looked up and wiped away the rest of her tears and asked, ‘How about 5 more minutes?”

Cue my heart swelling. Okay. Let’s sit here for 5 more minutes.


I shut off my computer, grabbed my jacket and rode the elevator down to the second floor of the building I work at. I paid for my Pumpkin Spiced Latte, because it is October and there isn’t another drink you purchase from cafes when the leaves are orange and there’s frost in the mornings, and I headed upstairs.

There’s this fancy furniture store that makes you feel like you pay for everything in rubies and gold bars when you walk in. It’s Tuesday morning at 10am and no one is shopping for throw pillows here at this time and I was the only one in the store, or so I thought. My heart was set on a green velvet couch that I pass by every morning. It is equal parts bougie and beautiful and if I owned a multi-million dollar home you bet I would put this gorgeous, olive couch in my living room. I put my feet up on the gold encrusted coffee table, sunk back and let myself cry for a bit.

Right as I was mid-wallow a store employee popped up and asked if I needed anything. A young, 20-something who clearly can’t afford anything walks into your shop crying clutching a PSL in one hand and a napkin as a tissue in the other and sits on the couch that probably costs at least 6 months’ rent. What do you think I need? If I knew that answer, I wouldn’t be sitting here. I looked at him with my misty eyes and said, “I just need to sit here and drink this coffee for 5 minutes.”

To which he replied, “Great, let me know if you need anything. Also please take your feet off of the coffee table.”


Sometimes you just have those days.

Homegirl was too young to verbalize that she has big feelings and a lot of things going on at once makes her feel overwhelmed. So we got away from it all for a minute. And I had spent the last month doing my best to try to solve a problem and I still didn’t feel like it was enough. My tank was empty and I needed to get out. I needed to sit on a green velvet couch and let myself feel like it was going to be okay if I got away from all of the noise.

We weren’t made for a 24-hour news cycle. Years ago people read the newspaper in the morning and turned on the evening news at night for an hour. They chose when and how they wanted to engage with the world’s problems. Now we have to figure out how to immediately process Google alerts and Twitter feeds for everything that happens in the world before the next big tragedy comes along. I feel hard things deeply and I also easily forget the wins; 2017 is a hard year for feelers like me. We need 5 more minutes.

It’s an act of active patience to get away for even 5 minutes. To get a glass of water. To breathe. To kiss the ones we love and to remind ourselves that immediate is not always better, even if the notifications tell us it is.

The holidays are going to be here and gone before you know it. Remember to take 5 more minutes to be present where you are.

You can conquer the world when you get back.