depression elevator

I want to talk to you about depression. At first, I resisted writing this post, for a few reasons. After the sad and shocking death of Robin Williams, it seemed like everything about depression that could be said was said, and also, it’s scary and uncomfortable for me to come out and talk about my own struggles with depression. But then I realized, maybe that’s why it needs to be written. Because it’s scary, and because it takes a sad and shocking celebrity death for people to talk openly about depression, when the conversation should be ongoing. So here’s my contribution.

I’ve said that depression is like being stuck in an elevator in an empty building. You basically feel like you’re powerless, and that no one can save you, least of all yourself. I’ve also talked about struggling with anxiety. I’ve joked that anxiety is like forcing a cat to wear a costume. But really, having anxiety is awful, as is having depression.

The worst thing about struggling with mental afflictions like these, is the feeling of being trapped. You feel like you have no one to talk to about it, because if you tell someone, you’re afraid they’re going to say the worst possible thing they could say: “Oh stop, you’re being over dramatic.” Hearing the phrase “over dramatic” makes me flinch. I hate being accused of being “over dramatic” so I push all of my negative thoughts deep down, hoping that I’m doing my best at pretending to be a real, functioning person.

And yet, you know that if you have depression, you should talk to someone. (In the wake of Robin Williams’s death people have said over and over, “If you have depression, talk to someone”, as though it were that easy. I understand it isn’t that easy.) That’s why therapy is helpful, but I can’t call and text my therapist 24/7, even though she’s the only person who understands why I freak out at the idea of parking my car. Everyone else thinks I’m insane and ridiculous for freaking out over something so stupid, so why would I tell anyone?

I’m here to tell you that you can tell me. I understand. I understand that it’s the little things that build up inside that make us feel like we’re in that elevator. And I’m also here to tell you that it’s okay. It’s okay to have those scary, depressing, anxiety-ridden thoughts. It’s not okay to always give into them, but it’s okay if that happens, because you’re human, and sometimes, the thoughts win. Sometimes they don’t, and when they don’t, I give you the highest of fives. I want you to know, that you’re not over dramatic. You’re allowed to feel depressed even if you have what others consider an enviable life. They’re not “first world problems” — they’re real problems because they hinder your life, even if no one else thinks so. They don’t have to agree with you. They don’t have to understand. I’d like them to, but people won’t always understand.

Sometimes, the thoughts that win are the thoughts that make people choose suicide. “Why would anyone commit suicide?” people say. “That’s so selfish.” And that’s another word that makes me flinch, because there’s nothing selfish about depression. It’s a disease, like any other, but unlike any other, you get accused of being over dramatic. And these are negative words, and when negative words accompany negative thoughts, bad things happen. I want to tell anyone thinking of suicide that I don’t think you’re selfish, or a bad person.

What I’d like you to do though is think of the story about a man who jumped off the Golden Gate bridge. On his way down, his only thought was, and I’m paraphrasing, “There’s nothing in my life that can’t be fixed other than the fact that I just jumped off a bridge.” In that one moment, he would take it all back. He survived. There’s nothing sadder to me than the idea of someone having that moment and being unable to take it back; of realizing that they made a decision that they can’t change, and wishing they could. Of having the fleeting thought of survival and watching it get sucked away. Please think about that.

I’m not a doctor, and I can’t fix all your problems, but I can let you know that I’m here, if you want to use this post to vent. This is a safe space. I won’t think you’re over dramatic. I won’t think you’re selfish. I won’t think anything other than I’m glad you’re here to add your thoughts to this world. Let’s be good to each other. Let’s break in the building and bust open the elevator door.

 

CC Image, “Help is on the way, elevator, Chicago Tribune, Chicago, IL”, courtesy of Cory Doctorow via Flickr.

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Posted in: let's just talk from our hearts

I’ve made an instructional (sort of) video on how to rock glasses, featuring glasses from Warby Parker. I used their free home-try-on program, where you pick 5 glasses and then send them to you and you try them on. I’m showing you 5 different looks. Let me know what you think.

warby parker

Do you wear glasses? What kind of glasses do you wear?

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Posted in: video

It’s here! I teamed up with my gal pals Jordan Hinson and Kate Melton to answer your dating and relationship questions. And there was drinking involved. SO here’s our drunk dating advice video. Part 2 is coming soon! You guys had so many good questions I couldn’t fit them all into one video.

I do hope you enjoy. Thanks again for sending in your questions! We had a blast and a half.

drunk dating advice video

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Posted in: apocalypstick answers, video

summer fling

I’ve never had a summer fling. Those kids from Grease make it sound like such fun! If I had a summer fling, I imagine his name would be Jacques and his hair would be as dark as a David Lynch film. We’d meet in a hilarious and adorable way, like perhaps he accidentally took my drink at Starbucks, and I would tease him for thinking my name was anything like his, and he’d have a fiery French temper but an English wit, and he’d say something like, “I deeply apologize for the horror I caused; let me make it up to you.”

And he’d make it up to me by picking me up at my hotel (yes, I’m suddenly on vacation, it’s summer, where else would I be) on his Vespa, and I’d be very nervous at the prospect of riding on a Vespa, and he would say, “Shhh, I steer her well.” And I’d trust him, because that’s what you do when you’re on vacation in a fantasyland. You trust the guy with the Vespa.

I’d cling to him as we’d zip throughout the city, all the way out to the beach, where he’d procure wine and cheese from his Vespa. Oh, and there’s a blanket, somehow. Somehow he fit a blanket, because he’s magical Jacques. We’d sit on the blanket and drink wine and he wouldn’t ask me even once, “So what do you do for a living” because he knows such questions are mundane and boring and make me fret about my future. We’d exchange rapid-fire banter like we were in a Nora Ephron film, or hell, an episode of Gilmore Girls. It would be the exact mental stimulation I’d need. He’d keep me on my pedicured toes and then we’d dive in to the water, together, and I wouldn’t feel self conscious about my “bikini body” because he’s already make it clear that he thinks I am the most beautiful woman on Earth. I’d point out that Charlize Theron is also on planet Earth, and he’d say, “Shhhh” and then blow confetti out of his palm.

Because whimsy.

After the beach he’d drop me off at my hotel, always the gentleman, so that I could change for dinner. We’d go somewhere where men are required to wear a jacket and tie — that’s how you know this is a fantasy, as such places don’t exist anymore. But we’d find it and we’d go there, and I would eat and eat and drink and drink and dinner would feel like our own little Disneyland; a place where we can have fun and be indulgent and no one can judge us. He would insist on ordering one dessert with two forks, and the most magical thing about this meal is that at no point during the meal do we ever check our phones, not even once.

I suppose we’d make love that night, and I say “make love” because that’s what he would say, and the best part is, it wouldn’t sound cheesy or creepy or weird. He’d have that uncanny ability to utter the phrase, “shall we make love” and have it sound as though it were a brilliant and novel idea.

And we’d repeat this every day, sometimes changing it up and going to wine tastings, sometimes just spending the whole day in bed, sometimes just wandering around whatever made up city we’re in, and I would never have to plan anything and he’d insist on paying for almost everything, because he’s old school. He’s so old school he’d drape his jacket over a puddle and insist I walk upon it, and I wouldn’t at first, but he’d beg, and I’d say, “C’est la vie” and he’d roll his eyes and call me a “typical American” and we’d bicker but there’s so much passion there that we’d probably wind up eloping by the end of my vacation and we’d realize it was a very very bad mistake but neither of us would want to admit it, so we’d stayed married for 10 years while he had numerous affairs and I pretended not to notice.

Ah, don’t you just love summer flings?!

 

Originally posted on The Gaggle, by me. Photo by Gordon Parks via LIFE photo archives for Google.

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Posted in: dating, HAVE THE GREATEST SUMMER EVER!, i don't even know, let's just talk from our hearts

Time for another RELATIONSHIP VIDEO!

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L to R: Me, Kaity, Jordan. Don’t I look just precious??

My roommate, actress Jordan Hinson, and our fabulous friend Kaity, are doing a relationship advice video. I’ve done them before, here, with Max Landis. Now I’m relying on my gal pals to help me out.

Got a question about relationships? Dating? Sex? We’re here to help. There are three ways to send us your question:

  1. Tweet me @apocalypstick.
  2. Send it to me at my formspring.
  3. Comment here.

We will do our best to answer. We will probably be drunk, so get ready for some realness.

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Posted in: apocalypstick answers, let's just talk from our hearts, relationships

almie rose book cover i forgot to be famous

So I wrote an eBook, published by Thought Catalog titled, I Forgot To Be Famous. And I thought I’d provide some reasons as to why you should buy my book now. Hear me (read me?) out.

1. It’s cheap.

If you hate it, it will be the cheapest mistake you’ve made in your life. It’s only $5.99 on Amazon, Kobo, and iBooks$5.49 on Barnes and Noble, and only $4.61 on Google Play. That’s cheaper than a martini.

2. It’s short.

I’ve vomited longer than it takes to read this book. You can read it while lounging by the pool, or while you’re sitting in a waiting room. It’s an estimated 53 pages. You can totally knock this off and then brag to people that you read an entire book in an hour. You’re welcome.

3. It’s got good reviews.

It’s got 4.5 stars out of 5 on Amazon, and I swear, not one of those reviews is me pretending to be someone else. You can tell because none of the reviews say “What a rollicking good yarn! — Marge Simpson.” It was also an Item of the Day on HelloGiggles, and a Frisky book recommendation.

4. You’ll feel better about yourself.

The book is a series of essays, most of which are about how I embarrass myself (like the time I got hammered and went up to the actor I had a crush on and told him he had a big head) or get heartbroken (like the time my ex left me for his now A-list actress ex who wound up not taking him back). You’ll read this and think, “Wow! At least I didn’t do THAT.” And somewhere in the world I’ll nod and stroke my chin thoughtfully.

5. It can be your good deed of the day/week/month/year.

Yes, I’m saying if you want good karma, buy my book. Support a struggling writer. Make her mom happy. Be young and free.

6. I can stop acting like this:

Nobody wants this.

7. You don’t have to put on pants to buy it.

You can download this puppy right here, right now, and not even have to put on pants. It will download instantly. Think of all that time you saved not having to put on pants and all that joy you gained not having to interact with real people.

8. You don’t need Kindle to read it.

You can read it on any tablet device or even on your phone or computer with this handy free Kindle app download. I promise. Up until recently, I didn’t even have a Kindle. Now I do and I use it mostly to play Words With Friends. And by “play Words With Friends” I mean “getting beaten, badly, by everyone, at Words With Friends.”

9. It’s a great way to waste time at work.

Don’t you just love wasting time at work? Why not waste it in a more creative, original way, by swapping Reddit or Buzzfeed for my book? If your boss catches you, just tell them, “I’m doing research for our next project.” That line will work for anything.

10. You can find out what When Harry Met Sally… would look like in 2013, or what Mad Men would look like in the 1990′s.

The book contains the essays “When Harry Met Sally… In 2013″ and “Mad Men in the 1990′s”. I tried to capture the tone of the movie and the show, respectively, and I think I did a good job. Plus, you have Don Draper talking about The Mighty Ducks. How could you lose?

Convinced? Click here.

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Ryan Gosling

What is the big deal about Ryan Gosling? I don’t get it, and I never have.

The Internet (and “real life”) is freaking out because he’s having a baby with actress Eva Mendes. Um, did anyone think they had a chance with Ryan Gosling? Like his having a baby was the ultimate personal shutdown to you, Ryan Gosling fan. Sorry, but him having a baby doesn’t affect you in any way. You didn’t have a chance before, and you won’t have a chance ever. Sorry. He’s not even the guy you probably think he is. He’s just an actor. You don’t even know him. Let him live his life.

Anyway, here’s what I don’t get about Ryan Gosling.

The Notebook Sucks.

Yeah, I said it. I said it and I regret nothing about saying it. That movie was a pandering piece of baloney. (When I get real feisty about a topic, instead of cursing, I turn into a 1930′s newspaper reporter. Baloney, I tells ya!) Ryan Gosling played an insane stalker. That scene when he tries to woo Rachel McAdams’s character by HANGING OFF A FERRIS WHEEL was absolutely ridiculous. That man was a fucking maniac, hanging off a goddamn ferris wheel like a fool. (Okay, I lied, the cursing is coming back.) He manipulated her into being with him, and then continued the manipulation with all of his stupid letters and saying shit like, “If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.” Which is supposed to be a really romantic line, but sounds like some creep trying to possess a woman, like I could hear someone following me down a dark street cackling, “IF YOU’RE A BIRD, I’M A BIRD, MWUAHAHAHAHAHAHAA. FLY FOR ME!!” Sorry, but I didn’t find that movie romantic, I found it bizarre. His character had some serious mental problems and didn’t understand the meaning of the word “no”. How is that romantic?

He looks like a farmer.

Ryan Gosling

“Time to plow the fields soon.”

Everyone says he’s so handsome, but I look at Ryan Gosling and I see a farmer, and I can’t really explain this. No offense to farmers, but I guess what I’m trying to say is he looks like a totally ordinary man to me. Like some dude who wandered into Hollywood from Iowa. No offense to people from Iowa. I’m just saying, he’s no big deal. But this is coming from someone who finds David Bowie to be the ultimate sex boat, so my tastes are decidedly different from most of America I guess. NO, I’m not saying I should get a medal for this, but if you want to send me one my address is:

1234 Fuck Ryan Gosling Way
Los Angeles, CA 90000

The memes stopped being funny ages ago.

The whole “Hey Girl” Ryan Gosling meme has been turned into a book, a coloring book, coffee mugs, Twitter/Instagram accounts, and T-shirts, and I’m sick of it. It wasn’t even that funny to begin with. What’s so funny about the idea of a man being sensitive and kind? “A man likes Pinterest? Hilarious!” No.

Anyway, I’m sorry if this comes off as very harsh, it’s just something that’s been building up inside of me for a long time. I will never understand the Ryan Gosling mania. People act like he’s the goddamn Beatles. He’s just a dude with a great job. But if you wanna continue to act like he’s sexy Jesus, go ahead, it’s your life. Just explain to me what the big deal is, because, like a cat trying to pin down his shadow, I’m not getting it.

The following men are more crushworthy than Ryan Gosling:

– Gregory Peck
– Paul McCartney
– Jarvis Cocker
– David Bowie
– Gaspard Ulliel

I mean, you can totally have a crush on all of these men and Ryan Gosling; that’s like saying just because you like Britney Spears means you can’t listen to indie rock. Not true. I’m just saying, in conclusion, I am terribly uncool and out of touch with my generation regarding this particular actor and his fandom, and I’m okay with that.

And seriously, fuck The Notebook.

Images via Zimbio.

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Posted in: celebrities, no i'm not drunk