one of many.

Day 10: Your most embarrassing moment(s). Spill.

Spill? SPILL? I wrote about leaky tampon issues and my boyfriend almost catching me changing said tampon. SPILL IS MY MIDDLE NAME.
This is like Christmas morning for me. Okay, here we go.
Once upon a time, when Justin and I were in relationship purgatory, he suggested we go get drinks, as friends! Yay! Let's be friends! Fine. Let's.
I spent the entire day with my younger sister in a tattoo parlor — that we only ended up in because we were bored. We had a really light lunch and of course I had a couple of tall cans while she was getting worked on. This is all just to say I didn't set myself up very well for the evening.
Justin met up with me later and we walked from my apartment to my favorite dive. A friendly walk. Justin ordered a beer. And then this happened.
Me: I'll have a PBR and a shot of Jameson. Justin: Oh, it's that kind of night? Me, in my head: FRIENDS NIGHT!
So we talked, as friends, and talked and drank and did more shots of Jameson than I can remember. And then I stood up to go to the bathroom and it all snapped.
Me: I need to go home. IMMEDIATELY.
And then I bolted out the door and started walking home before he could even say anything.
What happened next was not a far cry from that time I ruined vacation. The difference? We were only friends. We had only known each other for about 2 months. And here I am puking a liter of whiskey right in front of him.
So I did that thing in which I lock myself in the bathroom and yell that I AM FINE repeatedly. I begged him to go home. I was fine! 
I was not fine. I was wrapped up in a damp bathroom towel and crying mascara out of my nose. I was nowhere near fine.
Justin. That Justin. He didn't leave me. He refused to leave me. He let me sleep in the bathroom for a while because once I am in there, I am in there. And then he dragged me to bed and made sure I didn't die for a few hours. And then he went home. My friend.
To say I was embarrassed is an understatement. When I woke up the next day — in the middle of the afternoon — I thought for sure I would never hear from him again.   
SPOILER ALERT: I did.

aggressive cuddle time!

Day 9 - A moment in your day.

No, jmeoww. I didn't want to be in the picture at all.

One of my favorite times of the day is when Justin and I are relaxing, usually watching TV, and this thing decides it is time for cuddles. She can't just curl up next to us, or in between us. It has to be ON my chest all up in my face. Yes, this is a daily occurrence. Luckily it only lasts for 5 minutes or less. How do I know it is over? The biting begins and she darts. So much love in that little brain of hers. It gives me severe giggles every damn time.

eight.

A piece of advice you have for others. Anything at all.

I've definitely touched on this one before, but let's elaborate, yea? 
LIGHTEN UP.
Take silly pictures. Laugh a little too loud. Dance in the grocery store. Sing the wrong words. Mismatch your clothes a little. Wear bright lipstick. Don't wear makeup at all. Wear sunglasses at night. 
Just stop caring too much. Because people aren't going to remember that one picture you are tagged in on facebook where you are making the face where you look like a donkey. They aren't going to remember if your earrings matched your necklace which matched your dress. They won't remember if one curl was out of place. Shit, most of the people you encounter are strangers anyways. So who cares?
They are going to remember that you were a good time. That you were genuine. That you weren't afraid to relax and be yourself. That you were a better person because you did not carry insecurities and burdens with you through life. 
Take a deep breath and relax. This is supposed to be fun, remember?

Start the conversation.

We interrupt this regularly scheduled BLOG EVERY DAY IN MAY because I was recently made aware that May is Mental Health Awareness Month. The fact that I was not aware, and that you probably weren't either, that is the problem.

We don't talk about it. We don't talk about it because we don't want to be judged, and because we fear you won't understand. We don't talk about it because you "don't need those pills" or because you too are having "anxiety." We don't talk about it because it triggers feelings — feelings that we work hard to escape.

According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness, 1 in four adults experience mental illness in a given year. That means someone you know, whether you recognize it or not, has or is currently experiencing mental illness.

Some of my experience with depression and anxiety has been chronicled here. Mild compared to other stories I've read and people I know, it is still a part of me. And I owe an abundance of gratitude to those that showed me that #1 We can talk about these things and #2 We can laugh about it afterwards.

Throughout this month, I plan to share my stories. The posts below are ones I've collected over the years that have resonated with me deeply. They are my reminders that I am never alone.

Adventures in Depression

Tightrope Walker

On Depression & Getting Help

Or a Declaration

I'm Taking a Sad Day

The Hard Things

80 new beds, 80 more lives

So, let's talk about it. Share your experiences, or talk to a friend in need. It's time.

and doin' it well.

Day 6 - What do you do?

I love Justin.  I provide guardianship to jmeoww. In return she lords over me. I act as a responsible and rational family member. Most of the time. I give advice to people that sometimes want to hear it, and sometimes don't. I compulsively online-window shop. I plan. I worry. I enable. I dance in the kitchen.  I dance in the car. I drink beer. I make up stories about strangers. I lose my soul in music. I obsess over trivial things. I make lists. I overreact. I bite my nails. I get weird. I crush candy. I judge. I people-watch.