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Living a Lie Gets Hard (pt. 2)

For those that are on my mailing list, you already received this in you inboxes about 10 days ago and this week the story continues. But, let's catch everyone else up. If you haven't already, subscribe to my newsletter to stay in the back to it!


This is the part that is very hard to say out loud. I had a talk with my close friend and client who is a therapist. I acknowledged with her that my anxiety was back because of the news, but I continued to hide my depression. Until one night that I don’t think anybody knows about. Here we go. I was home alone, late-night and I won’t say I was having suicidal thoughts, but I was having thoughts that in six months it wouldn’t matter if I was here, nor did I care. The third time I had that thought it was like a switch went off and everything was familiar again, I knew what was happening. And that night when I just started to cry, I hit the floor to my knees and I started praying. We won’t go through exactly what I said in the prayer, but again it was familiar. That moment I was done.

I knew I had to tell somebody I was ready to get help. I was ready to stop feeling empty. I didn’t want to be the girl who felt like she could pray it away. I was that girl before and she suffered for a long time in silence because she thought getting help was giving up on her faith. I wanted to get help not only for me but for the girl back there. My inner little girl who wasn’t a “little girl” when all this took place but like a little girl desired saving from depression and anxiety, from mental illness. But I was confident I wasn’t gonna be defeated.

Until next time loves,

Curls n' Cocktails


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