A Sweet Montana Christmas
I’m happy to announce that A SWEET MONTANA CHRISTMAS is now available! For today and probably tomorrow, it’s $0.99 but it goes to the regular price of $2.99 after that.
Just sayin’.
If you happen to read it, would you consider writing a brief Amazon review? Or giving it some stars on Goodreads? It makes a huge difference and it’s really good karma, too.
Get Ready for Christmas!
Could you use an extra $200 right about now? I know I could! I’ve teamed up with A Girl With a Kindle and several other authors to give away exactly that! Here’s the link and good luck! a Rafflecopter giveaway
Depression, Amy Poehler and Roxanne’s Rant on “Baby Blues”
- At November 05, 2014
- By Roxanne Snopek
- In Life, Roxanne Writes On
- 10
To those of you new to me, announcement: I have depression. I know, I know what you’re thinking. “How can it be? Look at that smile! You’re so funny, quirky, even sometimes. Not to mention cute like a baby goat and oozing talent from every pore…” No? Well, whatever. I’m not a mind-reader.
Anyhoo, depression. The great first-world plague of our time, a genuine life-threatening illness that nevertheless makes us feel like pitiful, self-absorbed losers because compared to so many people in the world, we have awesome lives.
A lot of bad self-talk comes with the territory.
I’ve learned a great deal about the continuum of mental health since I was first diagnosed way back when my youngest was a toddler.
By the way, baby blues? Take 90% of functioning adults, inflate their bodies, put their hormones in a blender, then hurt them in places that really want to be treated nicely. After that, isolate them from their usual social circles, strip them of all status and economic power, and give them the job of caring for what everyone says is our “future, the most precious things in the universe” but is in fact a sleep-destroying effluent-producer, and the job doesn’t pay the couple-of-bucks an hour that teenagers get to spell you.
Oh, and don’t forget, it really is the most important job in the world and you really want to succeed, but you have zero training and will mostly suck at it.
To every doctor who has smiled dismissively and said “there, there, it’s just the baby blues,” may there always be a mosquito in your room at night and you always get a 15 second ad on YouTube.
Back on track, now. I’ve learned a lot about the black dog that lives inside my head (no, not my lovely poodle, he’s right here beside me), mostly that a) a lot more people than you know have or have had or will have a dance with that dog b) few of them will talk about it and c) most of them will be somewhat terrified, enormously ashamed and incredibly grateful to hear stories of other people’s experiences.
And on that note, the entire reason I began this post, I read a great little piece in Smart Bitches, Trashy Books today about depression, and I thought I’d share. More specifically, it’s about Amy Poehler’s book Yes, Please. That’s right, Amy Poehler’s dealt with depression.
Enjoy!
PS: In case you’re worried about me now and want to send cards or flowers, or drive by the house to see if the lights are on, I’m fine. I will probably always be prone to flare-ups, like people with eczema or herpes, but it doesn’t control my life. I have an awesome life and, more importantly, I know it.