Okay my little carnitas, I’m sorry for the lack of posts –I’ve been traveling and dealing with some serious dramz– but I’ve got to Tell People Things and YOU, you lucky little limpopos, are my beloved audience so strap in because mama’s got Things To Say.
IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM AND NEED HELP, GET HELP.
HOW? HOW is that so hard? It’s not hard. Hard is fighting cancer. Hard is sneaking into the Real Madrid locker room for that ever-risky third time. Hard is being 6’2″ in heels and convincing your 5’3″ tango instructor Osvaldo to not use them as pillows, no matter how tempting and conveniently located they are because you’re pretty sure his wife and her paramilitary unibrow are both in Mossad and will cut you. THAT is hard.
Swallowing a pill once a day?
Listen, I know it’s not that simple. Really I do. I’m a Southern writer, we collect mental illness the way Yankees collect hard vowels and undeserved literary prizes, and yet I implore you: If you have a mental illness that you are not 100% on top of at this very moment, get on top of it. If you need help getting on top of it email me at firstname.lastname@example.org. I can find you help, or at least a starting place for help, any place in the world except in Antarctica. If you live in Antarctica maybe you should look at your choices. I know penguins are cute; they’re still not a valid lifestyle choice. Though I do appreciate their approach to formal wear.