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In case you just moved in from another planet (lucky you!), we’re in the middle of an unprecedented pandemic—you know, the kind that strikes once every 100 years and leaves us all scrambling to find a vaccine, adjust to a new normal, and basically survive. Just because Covid-19 has changed the daily norm, however, doesn’t mean that you can’t make the most of today. In fact, there’s no better season than this one to practice positivity and seek out joy. Even in a pandemic, there are easy, enjoyable, and effective ways to improve life and enjoy the season.

1. Seek Seasonal Fun
You can still go apple and pumpkin picking or get lost in a corn maze (socially distanced and/or masked, but still), enjoy pumpkin spice everything, make caramel apples and snickerdoodles, jump into a pile of leaves (sorry, neighbor!), and make a leaf scrapbook. Lots of towns are getting creative with pandemic-posed challenges, like with drive-through movie theaters, drive-through haunted houses, and awesomely decorated neighborhoods.

• Organic Authority offers 12 tips to pick out the perfect pumpkin.
• Modern Honey boasts the best snickerdoodle recipe (you decide!).
• CNN shares Tokyo’s (scary!) idea of a drive-in haunted house.

2. Reacquaint Yourself with Mother Nature
Remember, the original Mother you haven’t made time for because work/school/kids/errands/the sucking whirlpool of social media? She’s out there and waiting for you with open arms. Embrace her back! Fill your lungs with crisp air and your arms with gorgeous leaves. Go by yourself or bring along your family for some extra bonding time. Are you a walker, jogger, biker, hiker, horseback rider, or leaf-collector? It doesn’t matter! Nature and exercise both provide a plethora of physical and mental benefits. Get your butt out the door, girlfriend!

3. Get Creative
One of my favorite seasons is fall. Arts and crafts feel so autumnal, maybe because they’re so festive. With Halloween and Thanksgiving approaching, it’s never too early to pick out pumpkins and decorate your home with lots of fall cheer! You can also get into the seasonal spirit by indulging in seasonal movies, dances, treats, books, and other activities. Good Housekeeping shares 64 craft ideas to keep you creative all season long. Bustle has collected 15 creepy stories as the night grows dark and full of terrors. Mashable has you covered if you’re looking for Fall 2020’s most anticipated Netflix flicks.

• Good Housekeeping shares 64 craft ideas to keep you creative all season long.
• Bustle has collected 15 creepy stories as the night grows dark and full of terrors.
• Mashable has you covered if you’re looking for Fall 2020’s most anticipated Netflix flicks.

4. Treat Yourself!
For some of us, this means snuggling up in a cozy blanket with a cup of cocoa and a fantastic book. For others, it’s a seasonal movie marathon on Netflix. Or maybe savoring cider donuts or spicy apple cider. Or enjoying a long bubble-bath with cinnamon-scented candles and music. Or perhaps gathering with loved ones (virtually, if not in person). One thing’s for sure: ‘tis the season to treat yourself!

• Country Living offers 36 easy, healthy, and delicious fall recipes.
• Delish provides 79 mouthwatering dessert ideas.
• Time Magazine, Oprah, and Goodreads offer their take on this year’s most anticipated books.

5. Halloween at Home
Some people always preferred renting a scary movie or trading ghost stories and kicking back at home on Halloween. For the rest of us, there are still a lot of fun ways to have a spook-tacular holiday! Instead of trick-or-treating, make your own candy and “boo” your neighbors and friends by leaving these home-made batches on their doorstep with a sweet note. Have a costume contest over Zoom with extended family members or friends, and post up pics on social media to announce the winners. Festoon your home and lawn with your favorite Halloween décor and remind the world why this time of year is so awesome.

Here are 50 easy Halloween decorations by Woman’s Day to get you pumped!

Wrapping Up
This year hasn’t looked like any of us could have possibly imagined, but let’s not let that take the magic out of fall. We can adapt, celebrate, and enjoy this season, even if it looks different than we are used to. Let’s make new memories. Let’s embrace new traditions and experiences. Enjoy this season of the year for exactly what it is: an opportunity to grow and experience this special time of year in a way that we never have.

We’ve got roughly three months left in 2020, and the coronavirus is still the world’s most unwelcome housemate. According to the experts (read: science), 2021 will bring back a lot more hope and normalcy, but for now the pandemic is far from over. While it might seem like 2020 was an “unreal” year—birthdays don’t count, and those 10,000 hours browsing through Netflix don’t either, right?—it has left its toll.

September is Suicide Prevention Awareness Month—in NAMI’s words: “A time to share resources and stories in an effort to shed light on this highly taboo and stigmatized topic.” Annually, nearly 800,000 people die due to suicide—and many more attemptit.

The following memoirs—just a handful of many—present people who have grappled with their demons and overcome horrific odds. These narratives are powerful and gut-punching, yet can offer invaluable advice, solidarity, and comfort.

Above all, they remind each of us: YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

• Willow Weep for Me, by Meri Nana-Ama Danquah: “The first book to focus on black women and depression … A powerful meditation on courage and a litany for survival.”

• Reasons to Stay Alive, by Matt Haig: “[An]  accessible and life-affirming memoir of his struggle with depression, and how his triumph over the illness taught him to live.”

• Manic, by Terri Cheney: “A harrowing yet hopeful book … of what it’s like to live with bipolar disorder. It is a testament to the sharp beauty of a life lived in extremes.”

• Ten Ways Not to Commit Suicide, by Darryl “DMC” McDaniels: “Revealing how even the most successful people can suffer from depression, DMC offers inspiration, information, and insight.”

1. An Unquiet Mind, by Kay Redfield Jamison: “One of the foremost authorities on manic-depressive illness; she has also experienced it firsthand … a memoir of enormous candor, vividness, and wisdom.”

Reading about other’s experiences can help give you a new perspective on life and awareness of how to support the people in our lives that may be going through a difficult time. So, don’t forget to reach out and stay in touch with friends and family especially during this time of isolation.

Click here for Resources for Suicide Prevention (by SAMHSA, the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration)

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

Crisis Text Line: Text 741-741 from anywhere in the U.S.

September is a gorgeous month of crispy weather, sweaters and boots, and pumpkin spice lattes. It’s Mother Nature’s time to begin letting go of all the deciduous leaves that weigh her down. I, too, have always considered it timely to reflect as the days get shorter and the leaves change color. What do I need to change? What should I be grateful for? What do I need to let go of?

World Childless Week also occurs in September. It’s a global movement that seeks to raise awareness of the childness not by choice (CNBC) community, and to help this community find support groups that empathize with their grief and help them find peace and acceptance. This community includes anyone who is childless despite their longing to be a parent, or who has suffered the sorrow of a miscarriage or stillborn baby.

This community includes me.

I tried for years to give birth. I could conceive easily enough. At first, the knowledge of being pregnant swept me up in joy and bliss. I felt ready and eager to bring a child into this world and shower it with so much love, to provide it with the physical and emotional security I did not have while growing up. Each time, however, I lost the baby—sometimes even after I felt it flutter and knew the gender. Each loss replaced the hope and love with pain and devastation. After five traumatic miscarriages over the course of 8 years, my grief was so great that I could no longer imagine trying again.

I would be lying if I said that my infertility and miscarriages did not take their toll on both my physical and mental strength. During each loss, the accompanying D&C was an extra form of torture. My body was poked and prodded; my uterus was scraped and scarred. Yet the physical wounds came nowhere near the emotional pain. I grieved over these babies as if they’d been already born and breathing—and nobody told me that this was okay because they were my children.

My depression and frustration were compounded by a lonely ache. A piece of me was always missing. On top of everything else, I felt weighed by stigma and shame, as if I were less than other women just because I was infertile. Meanwhile, of course, everyone around me was having children—my friends and siblings and colleagues—and I was the odd one out. Children’s birthday parties and baby showers felt like agony, yet I plastered a smile on my face and went to as many as I could. I wanted to support my loved ones—and how on Earth could I tell them that I was dying inside? Still, when my sister had her baby shortly after I lost one of mine, my grief and jealousy would not allow me to visit them at the hospital. I was a victim of my circumstance.

For a long time, I continued to hope that my time would come. I would belong, would feel whole and accepted for being me, after I had a child. I felt so crushed and unworthy, some days passed in a blur of tears or numbness. I missed my children, but eventually I realized I also missed myself: the optimistic, cheery person I used to be. I began going to therapy and joined online support groups that encouraged me to share my feelings. What a wonderful thing it is to be able to confide in someone else without judgment! How incredible it feels to find people who can fully relate to you and share the weight of your burden! These invaluable sessions and groups pulled me back from the brink and helped me find my way again.

My husband, Claude, and I wanted children of our own. We had other choices, yes. IVF, adoption, surrogacy… Ultimately, however, we decided to live a childfree life by choice. We’ve seized it as an opportunity to bond more tightly with each other; the two of us were already a family and always will be. We are free to live a life where we can put ourselves and our marriage first. We can pursue our full potential as professionals. We have more time to travel, sleep in, go out to dinner or a late movie, be spontaneous, treasure the rest of our families and godchildren, and do whatever else we desire. Together, we decided to help the next generation in a different way, and launched Elevate Foundation to rebuild communities, uplift individuals, and inspire others to do the same. Isn’t the whole point of life to leave this world a bit better than as we found it? Our glass hasn’t been just half-full; somedays I think it’s brimming over, and my heart floods with life-affirming gratitude.

Childfree adults are judged everyday as being selfish, incompetent, ignorant, unmotherly (or unfatherly), and unworthy. Yet you and I know the true depth and breadth of our love, pain, and worth. My personal journey through infertility to acceptance, self-love, and peace has been a long and bruising experience, yet I feel I have emerged on the other side a stronger, wiser, fuller woman than before. I’ve survived each breaking point. I share my story in the hopes that it will comfort and inspire other women with the knowledge that we are not alone, and we are no less worthy because we are childless.

If you’re like me, the announcement of the recent stay-at-home order was no surprise thanks to Covid-19.  As we check in with our friends, our family and our colleagues we are finding that some people are just settling into the remote working routine, while others are counting the days until they can resume work in an office setting and get back to their daily lives. With so much pressure on us to perform our job duties from home, it’s too easy to put our own mental health on the backburner and pause our self care routines. 

There are, of course, some perks to working from home such as no commute, sweatpants/pjs every day (from the waist down anyway), no interruptions, and that the refrigerator at home has all their favorites. The downside is that being isolated and without human interaction daily takes a toll on even the healthiest of minds. Don’t get me wrong, I adore my dog – but it is just not the same as interacting with other humans on a daily basis. 

It’s so important in times like these to really focus on maintaining your mental health, especially if you have dealt with anxiety and depression at different times in your life. 

For me, it’s often hard to stay focused and motivated while working from home. Distractions are a dime a dozen and I have to really push myself to stay on task which can be mentally exhausting. I have put together a short list of some of my favorite ways to nurture my mind during quarantine and to make sure that I stay in tune with my mental health. 

1. Set up a designated work area. I know not everyone was prepared to work from home for a long period of time but setting up a workspace is very beneficial to help avoid unnecessary distractions. Surround yourself with things you love, colors that speak to you, motivational quotes, anything that makes you feel happy and ready to take on the day. 
2. LOG OFF! Set work hours for yourself and stick to them. You don’t have to answer emails at all hours of the day or night and shouldn’t. Prioritize yourself and your spouse/family by keeping work within work hours and being present at home after hours.
3. Find hobbies and interests around your home that keep you busy and occu py your mind, I really enjoy getting outside and working in my garden. Growing your own foods is so satisfying and the fresh air is beneficial as well. 
4. Keep lines of communication with friends and family that make you happy open. It’s easy to self isolate in circumstances where you are unable to be social, which can have a negative impact on your relationships. Make it a point to schedule a zoom call with friends or chat with family members weekly, If you’re feeling depressed or anxious, vent to a spouse, a sibling or a friend, 
5. Try something new, read a new book, listen to a new podcast. Try yoga, biking, listen/play music or even yard work to take advantage of your “you” time. 
6. Try to limit the news/social media that gets you down. I make it a point to check CNN in the morning, followed by NPR 10 minute news. I don’t look again until the next day. This allows me to stay up to date without getting so engrossed that it takes over my life. I also like to keep my social media circle fairly small and only surround myself with positive people, which is especially important during this time. 
7. Pamper yourself! If you’re feeling stressed, run a warm bath and relax with a glass of wine! Give yourself a manicure or do a face mask; anything that makes you feel refreshed and rejuvenated, 

In short, put yourself first. Period! 

Your mental health depends on it. 

If you’re interested in hearing my story and learning about my past mental health issues and hardships I’ve overcome in my life, you can get a copy of my book, Emerging Butterfly here, Available for purchase on audible, amazon and goodreads. 

If you want to change the world, you begin with yourself. It’s a truth as old as time, echoed by many of the greats. Mohandas Gandhi urged us to “be the change you wish to see in the world.” Michael Jackson reminded us to start “with the man in the mirror.” Marianne Williamson said: “Personal transformation can and does have global effects. As we go so goes the world, for the world is us. The revolution that will save the world is ultimately a personal one.”

I’ve been fortunate enough to experience this firsthand. As a kid, I had a fiery spirit, big imagination, and an itch to tiptoe out of my comfort zone. Lots of people tried to extinguish my light throughout my childhood and adulthood. Yet there were also many compassionate individuals who saw goodness and potential in me, and encouraged me to pursue my dreams and make something of myself. They believed in me until I learned to believe in myself. I gradually redefined myself. I am not broken or incomplete. I am not a victim or a sick person or half a woman because I deal with epilepsy, grappled with depression, or could not have a child. I am not the projection of anyone else’s shortcomings or biases.

I am a warrior, a writer, a lover, a protector, an empath, a believer, and a survivor.

Up to a certain point, my life had become a pattern of toxic environments, disappointing role models, and bad decisions made by myself and by those around me. My family was—to say the very least—dysfunctional. For a long while, I raged against an alcoholic and often-absent father and an overwhelmed mother, growing up in a chaotic, painful, and disenchanting household. I remained unaware of the immense impact my childhood had on me and how it helped mold the attitude, behavior, and choices I’d make as a young adult. When I hit rock bottom, I realized that my life had to change if I was to endure it.

And the only person who could substantially and truly transform it was… me.

Which is to say: transformations are an inside job. But what exactly does this mean for you? If you want to change your personal world—to change yourself—how do you begin?

Here are a handful of ideas that just might give you the nudge you need.

·      Be the master of you!

Focus on your personal project of self-improvement. Learn to master your thoughts, visualizations, and actions. No matter what stage you find yourself in life, take a moment to breathe and look around you.

First, look over your shoulder. Look where you came from. See all that? That’s what has made you into the person you are to this day.

Now take a look at your current reality. Ground yourself and ask the tough questions. Do you enjoy what you do? Do you feel you’re pursuing a passion? Do you feel that you have a purpose? Is this the life you want? Is this the work you were meant to be doing? Are you the person you want to be remembered for?

Time to look forward. Because the future is a murky thing to see, practice visualizing it—physically and mentally. Imagine what you want. Imagine exactly what you want. A visualization board–a collage of words and pictures that represents your goals and dreams—is easy to make and an invaluable tool.

·      Reframe your reality!

How do you perceive problems? If they constantly scare, upset, and give you loads of anxiety, the real problem lies in your perception. Worrying about an issue does absolutely nothing to solve it. Worrying just gives you extra pain—often unnecessary and always unhelpful pain that clouds your judgment and hurts your body. Too much stress can literally kill you.

Did you know that the Chinese character for “problem” and “opportunity” is the same letter? Everything depends on your interpretation. As Anthony Robbins said, life is 5% what happens to you and 95% what you make of it (how you deal with it).

Reframe how you see yourself. Reframe your self-concept and you’ll find that it transforms your world view and outlook on others, too.

·      Be generous!

Be generous with your gratitude. Be generous with your wisdom. Be generous with your compassion. This begins on a personal level: be kind to yourself. Don’t beat yourself up. When you falter or fail, encourage yourself like you would your best friend. Remember you are your best friend—you’re the only person who’s with you your entire life.

When you sow kindness in the world, you reap it back tenfold. Not just thanks to that awesome element called karma, but because being kind and good is super healthy for you. Just as stress kills you, kindness nurtures you. By spreading the love and gratitude, you’re also making the world a better place around you. You bring joy and inspiration to other people, and like attracts like. It’s the ultimate win-win situation.

Women aren’t broken if they can’t have children.

I felt as if someone had raided my body and pummeled my heart until it bled and broke. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think.

Hell, it hurt to live.

I couldn’t fathom what had just happened. Mere hours ago, there had been a living being inside of me. I’d heard her heartbeat. I’d seen her on the ultrasound. I’d even felt her kick as she shuffled within my womb. I’d fantasized about her beautiful bright eyes, her smile, her chortle, the way she’d feel in my arms when I first held her, and the incredible and sacred mission of raising her.

The notion of having a child after trying so hard was both nerve-wracking and exhilarating. Every time I traced my hands across my belly, an indescribable wave of compassion, delight, and longing flooded through my body, warming me with the certainty that I’d do everything in my power to ensure a good life for her.

And now? Now there was emptiness. Abysmal loss. Anger. Maddening sadness. Despair.

Hydrocephalus, the doctor explained to me and my husband, Claude. In hydrocephalus, the build-up of CSF — the body fluid found in the brain — can raise the pressure inside the skull, which squashes the surrounding brain tissues. This can cause the head to steadily grow in size… convulsions… brain damage… death. He strongly advised us to get an abortion. I felt I had no choice; I did.

I caressed my belly as if my hands could magically conjure her back inside, back to life, back to how we were paired up so perfectly for the past nineteen weeks.

As a woman and as an individual, however, statistics did nothing to comfort me in my time of darkness. I stayed in the hospital overnight, my pillow clutched to my face to muffle my moans as I grieved. My husband had gone home to care for our pets; the hospital staff did their best to comfort me, bringing me a consolation card with our dead child’s footprints. This did nothing to stem the tears.

For that hospital, I was one more statistic. 10–25% of all clinically recognized pregnancies end in miscarriage; I was part of the unlucky 1% that suffered through 3 or more consecutive first trimester miscarriages. With three prior miscarriages under my belt, my risk for another miscarriage was at 43% (another statistic that would come true months later).

Why is this happening? What did I do to deserve this? How can I possibly cope?

I hated God for punishing me. I hated my body for betraying me. Throughout my childhood, I’d been haunted by the demons of abuse, alcoholism, and absence. My mother had nine children naturally without even trying and I couldn’t have just one. Throughout much of my adulthood, I’d battled through toxic relationships, grand mal epilepsy, and depression. I wept a river that night, unable to come to terms with the reality.

The grief of losing a child — no matter the age, no matter the cause — can not be contained in words. When an unborn child dies within you, usually without a defined reason, a piece of you seems to die with them. What you face in the wake of their absence is unique to you. There is no “right” or “rational” way to cope with a miscarriage, and nobody deserves to tell you otherwise.

The pain is real and raw. The loss is physical, emotional, and it will scar you. The shock strikes like an electric volt. A miscarriage jars you from delight to devastation in no time. The sense of emptiness and helplessness consumes you, and this may be the most frightening of all. Humans are hardwired to instinctively fear that which we cannot control and miscarriages are just that, uncontrollable.

We must give ourselves time to grieve, accept, and heal from our loss. Therapy may be necessary, I know it was for me.

In my journey, amidst the nightmare of it all, I was lucky to have an incredibly supportive partner by my side who respected my needs and feelings, and who loved me for all I was. Each miscarriage taught me how strong I could be. Claude and I poured our love and purpose into a philanthropic endeavor we co-founded, Elevate Foundation, which has enabled us to make a difference in young people’s lives. In a way, these are the children we never had.

Women aren’t broken if they can’t have children. We don’t have to conform to society’s idea of what a woman should be. We don’t have to be ashamed of being childless — or childfree, for that matter — whether it’s a matter of personal choice or by fate. It’s important to be compassionate to each other, and above all, to ourselves.