Image from Food Family Finds
Rice Krispies Jack-o-Lanterns
From Noree Cosper


3 tablespoons butter or margarine

1 package (10 oz., about 40) Marshmallows or

4 cups Miniature Marshmallows

Orange food coloring

6 cups Rice Krispies cereal

Green Cookie Frosting

Black Cookie Frosting

12 small green gum drops


1. Melt butter over low heat. Add marshmallows and stir until completely melted. Remove from heat. Tint with orange food coloring.

2. Add Rice Krispies cereal. Stir until well coated.

3. Using 1/2-cup measuring cup coated with cooking spray divide warm cereal mixture into 12 portions. Using buttered hands shape each portion into pumpkin shape.

4. Make vine squiggles at the top with green cake frosting. Add 1 gumdrop for the stem.

5. Draw Jack-o-Lantern faces with the black cookie icing.

Ninety years ago, Gabriella di Luca promised to protect the family of her dying lover. She failed to keep that promise.  She was too far away to stop the devil that murdered the eldest Van Helsing son. Years later, Gabby learns the devil has resurfaced. She arrives in Hampton, TX, determined to stop the devil before it can lay a bloody hand on the remaining three brothers.

However, madness is spreading through Hampton. She suspects the devil is using this madness to test a drug which has a side effect of demonic possession.  Gabby rushes to end the source of the madness only to fall victim to it. For a woman cursed with eternal life, dying is no threat. However, Gabby must stop the devil's plot or risk losing her most precious possession: her mind.

Get It Now: Amazon (US) | Amazon (UK)

About Noree Cosper
Noree Cosper loves writing about magic in the modern world. While growing up in Texas she constantly searched for mystical elements in the mundane. She buried her nose in both fiction and books about Wicca, Religion, and Mythology. Everyday became an adventure as she joined a group of role-players, acting out her fantasies of vampires, demons, and monsters living in the world.

She embraced her nerdom wholeheartedly.

Noree grew, but never left her love for fantasy and horror. Her dreams pushed her and her hand itched to write the visions she saw. So, with her fingers on the keys, she did what her heart had been telling her to do since childhood. She wrote.

Follow me all week for awesome Halloween inspired recipes that will leave even the pickiest of Monsters satisfied.

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Favorite Halloween Treats
From Kayla Curry

I'm not really the baking or cooking type, so I'm just going to list my top five favorite Halloween treats and see who else agrees with me!

5. Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Who can resist these yummy treats? There are so many ways to eat them too. I used to pop the middles out and save the ring for last. I also love to put them on ice cream!

4. Popcorn Balls. The many colors and flavors are only one reason to love these sweet and salty Halloween favorites. The only problem is they cause a bit of a mess when you make them.

3. Candy Corn. Just mmmmmm. Halloween is not complete without these.

2. Dirt Cups. Chocolate mousse pudding, Oreo crumbs, and gummy worms in one little cup. Is there anything about this combination that isn't awesome? No!

1. Halloween Themed Peeps! One of my favorite Easter treats are peeps, so it's no wonder I love their creepy counterpart. You can't go wrong with ghost and pumpkin shaped marshmallows with a sugary coating. These are also great to use as your S'mores mallows if you happen to have a Halloween campfire.

About the author:

Kayla Curry lives in North Platte, Nebraska with her husband and two children. She likes spending time with family and friends when she’s not writing or planning out her conquest of the world. People who know her would say that she is sweet and kind, but her book characters would disagree. Her other hobbies include reading, metal detecting and research of local history. You can visit her website at http://www.kaylacurry.com to keep up on her progress in the Mystic Stones Series and her other works.

Grab Kayla's 99 cent creepy horror short story Oomph! on Amazon or Smashwords. Or pick up her free short story Ruby, on Amazon or Smashwords. Ruby is the short story companion to her paranormal novel, Obsidian, and can be read before or after the novel.

Follow me all week for awesome Halloween inspired recipes that will leave even the pickiest of Monsters satisfied.

Find the blog hop easily on Twitter #CovenAndCoffin
Today is Day one of the Covens and Coffins Blog Hop!

Follow me all week for awesome Halloween inspired recipes that will leave even the pickiest of Monsters satisfied.

Find the blog hop easily on Twitter #CovenAndCoffin

Autumn is when absolutely everything has to be cooked with pumpkin. Some people get tired of it, I’m sure, but my Fall is never long enough for me to tire of all the pumpkiny goodness. It’s the color, the faintly spicy scent, the sense that pumpkin makes it truly autumn. And so I give you:

Pumpkin Creme Brulee

Serves 6      

2 cups low-fat milk

1/2 cup pureed, cooked pumpkin

1/2 cup brown sugar (plus extra for caramelizing)

4 eggs, lightly beaten

2 tbsp. vanilla

1 1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon

1/2 tsp. ground nutmeg

1/4 tsp. ground ginger

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Combine milk, pumpkin, brown sugar, eggs, vanilla, and spices. I use a blender so the pumpkin is smooth and I can just pour directly into 6 dessert cups Place in a 9 x 13 baking pan. Pour hot water into the pan so water is halfway up the cups. Bake for 45 to 50 minutes. Remove from the baking pan and let cool. Chill for 4 to 24 hours. Sprinkle each with a spoonful of brown sugar. This is where it gets fun! If you have a culinary torch, then torch the sugar until it bubbles. This can also be accomplished under the broiler. Watch it closely so it doesn’t burn! Nothing is better than breaking through that delicious crust of caramelized sugar to reveal the cool spicy layers of pumpkiny goodness. The custard should create several different layers. It’s all good! (Yes, I did rip this directly from thedeerslayerswife.com. That’s okay, though, because she’s my mother.)

The Books of Lost Knowledge

Shadow redoWailing redo xcf

Truly, there are more things in heaven and earth… For instance, a dark and subtle world of magic, hidden just below the surface of reality. Lost Knowledge is a series of novels – two complete, many in progress – that centers on the reality of the things mankind has chosen to forget. There is beauty in the mist between the sea and the land, and dark things exist in the dim chasms of memory. Learn more at the Lost Knowledge website, or buy now here.

About MR Graham

DSC_0142fillMR Graham is a native Texan who traces strong cultural roots back to Scotland, Poland, and England. A mild-mannered Latin teacher during the day, Graham transforms at night into a raging Holmesian loremaster and rabid novelist. Though passionate about all scholarship and academia, Graham’s training and true love lies with anthropology, particularly the archaeological branch.

Connect with MR

Goodreads | Facebook | Twitter | Blog

Join me and my fellow writers as we ring in the Pagan New Year!

Find Halloween recipes, brand new ghost stories, take part in a murder mystery, and more!

Follow us into the dark, and you will have the opportunity to win a SLEW of prizes from myself and:

Noree Cosper, Author of A Prescription for Delirium

Peter Dawes, Author of the Vampire Flynn Series

M.R. Graham, Author of The Wailing, In The Shadow of The Mountains, The Truth of the Matter and Proof

Kayla Curry, Author of The Mystic Stones Series

Kayleigh Grian, Author of Sapphire and Sage

(Seriously, it's almost too much!)

Keep your eyes trained on twitter and Facebook... #CovenAndCoffin
Cover Design by Rebecca Hamilton
Book Blurb   

Young teen Richie Lyons is having an uneventful summer, playing games with his friends. He even has a birthday on the way. However, his uneventful life is shattered when he wakes up, on the morning of his thirteenth  birthday, with a list of names pounding through his brain. A list that contains the names of those he cares about most. As if that wasn’t enough, he keeps having a recurring waking dream of a fire that is threatening to take the life of his mom and sister. 

Richie must fight to understand this recurring list and the visions he is having. Are they prophetic, foretelling an actual occurrence, or a waking nightmare threatening his sanity? In addition, what does the list have to do with the newest local ministry and the strange pastor who came to Richie’s door?

The more Richie discovers, the less he understands. 

When Richie finally begins to understand, it may be too late for himself and everyone else that he cares about. 

There is one thing Richie knows for certain.

He may have to grow up much faster than he ever wanted to grow, because there is something very wrong with his visions, and there is something frightening about the list of five.

The Li5t of Five will release September 29th!
Author Bio

J. Scott Sharp has been writing for much of his considerable life, but only just now decided to take it seriously at 47. This makes him a little crazy. At least his wife Marti and his two dogs, Sumo and Tnur think so.

He has his Associates degree in psychology, which qualifies him for nothing except understanding what you're thinking. At least he likes to think so. He also thinks he understands what you're feeling, but that's a whole other problem.

He lives in Arizona where he splits his time between watching TV on DVD, working, and writing. His hobbies include stage and close-up magic and reading until his eyes won't stay open. Closed eyes make it harder to do stage magic, but he tries.

He is the author of short stories Not Even There, Three Blackbirds, and Cold-blooded

The List of Five is his first novella.

Follow J. Scott Sharp Online!!

"Suicide" is such a heavy word. It weighs on my heart and past, anchoring me to the present. It reminds me of what I've been through and where I've come from. I know that I can continue on, because I have, even through the darkest times.

I have depression—and I always will. It's one of those things that run on both sides of my family, like breast cancer, only we don't talk about it as much. We talk about how many women in our family have struggled with breast cancer and how we should all get mammograms, but we never talk about how we also struggle with anxiety and depression. No one ever suggested that I should see a therapist if I start feeling overwhelmed.

Instead, society has led us to believe that if your mind is sick, you are crazy and worthless. In reality, many valuable members of society have depression. J.K. Rowling, a talented author, has depression. Actress Uma Thurman and singer/songwriter Sheryl Crow have depression. Even Abraham Lincoln suffered from it! Why, then, do we shove this subject under the rug?

I think that suicide is a symptom of depression, and if we only took better care of each other, we would lose less amazing people. In some ways, my depression has made me a better person. I am more sensitive to others' emotions and stronger mentally after everything I've been through. I have wanted to take my life in the past, but made it out of those dark times thanks to the support and love from my family and friends.

The worst thing that can happen to you when you're depressed is to feel even more alone. Sometimes, being alone can be a good thing, but when you are hurting so much inside, you might not know how to reach out. In 2008, I created a pen pal support group for people with depression. The project was wildly successful, and hundreds of letters and emails were sent across the world. By reaching out to each other, we all became less alone.

During this week, I ask you to do one simple thing: smile at strangers. You never know when you might light up someone's bad day. Make yourself available to those who need to talk. If you're struggling, reach out. You are not alone. There is always someone who cares, whether it's a trusted family member or friend, or a licensed practitioner who can get you the help you need.

Let's start a conversation about mental illness.

Elizabeth Barone writes New Adult drama with grit—fiction that focuses on the things that twenty-somethings deal with. Her novels, short stories, and serials explore themes such as depression, addiction, and other real-life situations. She aims to start a conversation about mental illness with her second novel, Crazy Comes in Threes, due out in December. Elizabeth was diagnosed with clinical depression in 2004.

When she is not writing, Elizabeth enjoys playing The Sims 3 and Plants vs. Zombies, embroidering, and watching Indianapolis Colts games. She lives in Waterbury, Connecticut. Connect with her on her website, or chat with her on Twitter.



Worldwide Directory of Suicide Prevention hotlines, online chat, text-lines, and resources
I want you to remember one thing:

Statistically, you will feel better.

I know it’s a weird thing to say when talking about depression.  When talking about suicide.  It’s the kind of thing people will tell you and you’ll smile, and nod, if you still can, and you’ll ignore them.  It sounds trite.  Impossible.  Well, humor a nerdy psych major for a moment. 

That’s right, psych major.  That doesn’t mean I have all the secrets.  That means that when I was depressed, the cry-every-day kind, I knew what was going on.  I knew I had the symptoms.  I knew the average length of a depressive episode.  And I knew that I would probably have one again.  Most of all, I knew all the things I should (and I use that word in the most glib sense) be doing.  Get regular sleep.  Go out and do fun things.  Eat regularly. 

Ha. Ha ha ha.  Knowing what I should do didn’t make it any easier to get out of bed.  Or eat regular meals.  Or stay asleep for longer than four hours.  And I wasn’t even down in the darkest of it.  Wretched as I felt, I never wanted to kill myself.  Never wanted to be dead, passively, to fade away like something already gone. 

So how can I say, “You will feel better”?  Because I know it’s true.  Statistically.  Maybe it’s silly, but it kept me going during the lowest point in my life.  Nothing stays stable forever.  No matter how low you are, you will have to regress to the mean, bounce back to average.  Not in a day.  Not in a week.  But maybe in a month, or a couple of months.  You have to, because just as happiness fades to sadness, sadness must fade back.  Math doesn’t lie. 

I told you it sounded silly.  Wait?  Do nothing?  Expect to get better?  Of course not.  Rage.  Tear pages from your journal.  Run until your legs give out.  Sleep and cry.  Try medication or therapy and do those things we know can speed up recovery.  But always, always remember that nothing lasts forever. 

Not even misery. 

And whoever you are, I love you, I hope for you, and I pray to something unknown that you find your own hope.  You cannot be replaced.  Statistically, you are unique.  And you deserve to find contentment.  Even if it takes a while.





Worldwide Directory of Suicide Prevention hotlines, online chat, text-lines, and resources
I'll admit that I procrastinated big time in writing this post. I knew it was going to dredge up some pretty bad memories, ones I have pushed down deep. But, I agreed to do it because I know my story might help someone going through the same things I did. And if it helps just one person, than all my discomfort is well worth it. I asked to remain anonymous not because I am ashamed of my past and the story I'm about to tell, but only to spare my family the pain of reliving it.

I was a military brat who spent my teen years overseas in Germany. For my 18th birthday my friends took me out to a club and bought me many, many drinks (it was legal there). Before then I drank occasionally so I didn't think anything of it at first, but after several rounds I realized I was beyond drunk. The loud music and the crowded room made me feel overly warm so a "friend" suggested we go outside to get some fresh air. We had hung out before and I trusted him so I didn't think anything of it at the time.

When I stood up to walk outside, even more of the alcohol hit my brain and I could barely get one foot in front of the other. I even had a few friends outside ask if I was okay as I stumbled down a set of stairs, only to be reassured by my "friend" that he'd take care of me and they needn't worry. That was about the last coherent thing I fully remember. I kept blacking out and after coming to a few times, realized that I had made two huge errors in judgment. First, I had allowed myself to get way too drunk, and second I had trusted the wrong guy. You see, when you are as plastered as I was, there is no fighting back or saying no. Only half-hearted attempts at pushing him away, because as much as your brain is screaming no and stop, the alcohol has robbed you of your voice and your ability to stay unconscious.

When he was finished with me, he just redressed himself and said, "Let’s go back inside" as if nothing at all had just happened. By then, many of my other friends were starting to wonder where I had disappeared to and come looking for us. I found my best friend and headed to the bathroom where I told her what had happened. We sat there for what must have been an hour while I cried as she held me. She tried to convince me to go to the hospital and report it, but I was still drunk and knew rape had stigmas attached to it so I refused.

Fast forward a few days and we go back to school, where the guy actually tried to strike up a conversation with me in the halls like nothing had happened that weekend. It started a huge fight between him and a couple other male friends of mine, who by now had all heard the story. The next thing I know the school nurse, the cops and the guidance counselor are involved as the rumors had hit the school office. They called my parents (without my permission I might add) and told them what supposedly happened.

You see, I hadn't told my parents yet. I didn't want them to know, I didn't want anyone to know because I was ashamed and blamed myself for being stupid, for being drunk, for being too trusting. So then, I had to sit down and tell my parents everything, which was mortifying. Then, I had to recount the story over and over again to the cops (all males at that). It was as if they wanted me to say it again and again in case my story changed somehow so they could catch me in a lie. They didn't believe me. As the lead detective put it, I hung out with a few kids that had been in trouble here and there. He actually told me that it wouldn't have happened if I had picked better friends.

Because I had waited so long to tell an adult, it was too late for me to take the morning after pill. A few weeks later I found out, I was pregnant. As I began to struggle with what I was going to do, many of my friends quit hanging around or calling. They say misery loves company, but the company really doesn't love the misery. I found out quickly how many true friends I had.  Then mother nature made the tough choice for me that I just couldn't bring myself to make. I miscarried at a month and a half due to stress. I had already blamed myself for the rape, so it was easy to tack on the guilt of the loss.

Each day after my birthday, I sank deeper and deeper into a dark abyss that I didn't think I'd ever climb out of. The school was great about letting me leave classes if I needed to, removing the guy from any of my classes, etc. But I still had to see him in the halls and he even got to participate in my graduation ceremony on the honor guard, even though he wasn't a senior. Seeing him every day just made my depression get worse until finally I hit rock bottom. I had decided I didn't want to live anymore. I thought my life was over anyway. Before that night I had grand visions of "saving myself" until I was married, and in my twisted darkness I figured now no man would want to ever marry me. That I had been used up by losing my virginity.

I started going through my things, I cleaned my room so no one would have to do it when I was dead. I thought about all the ways to do it, which would be most effective, which would be the least painful, the whole nine yards. I wondered if anyone would miss me, other than my parents. And even though I knew they loved me, I was in such a dark place I thought they'd be better without me and the shame that I had caused them. And no one knew about any of it. I put on a mask for the world, I'd smile and pretend I was fine. I even lied to the shrink they made me talk to.

Then two separate things happened that changed everything for me. The first, our class had a guy commit suicide and I saw how it affected not just his friends and family, but everyone in the community. People who didn't even know him, grieved for him. The second, an unexpected friend reached out to me. He was willing to listen to me when no one else wanted to hear about my struggles. He became my constant companion for months, and he didn't want anything in return.

I still struggle with depression from time to time, and have many dark days where I wonder if I should just end it and be done with it. But now I realize that it would be a permanent solution to a very temporary struggle. I know now that my parents would be devastated, and that more than anything has kept me here. I also found an outlet for my emotions, writing. I pour all my dark thoughts and emotions and fears into my writing and it helps.

If you are feeling like there is no hope, know that I've been there too. It doesn't last forever, things do get better. Reach out to someone. Volunteer somewhere. Find an outlet to express yourself, whether it's writing like me or drawing, painting, making things, anything. Find something you enjoy and are passionate about, then pour your heart into it. But above all, just remember you are not alone. People care, even strangers.





Worldwide Directory of Suicide Prevention hotlines, online chat, text-lines, and resources
When Jess mentioned her blog dedicated to Suicide Prevention week, I didn't feel worthy to write anything for it. I mean that not in a self-deprecating or even mocking sort of way. I was just afraid that anything I could possibly have to say on the subject would either sound belittling or ignorant.

As it happened, today I received an e-mail with a few compliments on my work. It made my day. I was so happy I did a thirty second dance party (for Grey's Anatomy fans). And I kept thinking of how something so little, so easy and so simple can go such a very long way.

And there you have it. The single most important reason for me - and hopefully others - to participate in this Suicide Prevention and awareness campaign. Because this isn't about whether I understand your reasons to see this world in a bleaker light. It isn't about having 'been there, done that, bounced back from that'. Maybe I don't need to understand what made anyone think that whatever else might be next, whatever it is that awaits us after this life, could only be better than the one we have. (Me, I'm not so sure of that, by the way.)

If I've learnt anything through my own tough times (which feel very unimportant in the light of this week's theme, but they were a ball-and-chain to me) it is this: it helps to talk. It doesn't even really matter who you talk to, or what you talk about. Start with the easy stuff. The silly things. The little every day things that bug the crap out of you. Once you can trust the other person enough, the rest will come out, because it has to. And it will feel just that tiny little bit more bearable once you've said it. Once you've told someone how you feel and why you feel that way. And maybe you'll tell them again. And again. And again.

You can talk to the guidance counselor at school - because that is what they do and what they're there for. That helped me, at the time. Just being able to get things off my chest to someone who, in my case, didn't know any of the other people involved. It helped me sort out the madness and chaos that ruled my head. And best of all: it cured me, finally, of that nagging feeling of responsibility, where I thought that I had to fix things. It taught me that they were never my things to fix.

But it doesn't have to be a professional at all. Maybe there's someone among your friends - or someone who ought to be among your friends - or a distant relative, a neighbor, a friendly face, anyone who might surprise you and turn out to be a great listener. That is what you need most of all. You need someone who listens to what you have to say, even if they don't understand. You need someone who won't judge, but who might be able to ask the right questions. I don't know. But talk.

I have no idea if these words will have any effect. I hope so. I know that writing down your own thoughts can be liberating to a certain extent, too. It'll definitely make you more eloquent in voicing all those complicated things that are washing through you on a daily basis. But a quiet and patient notebook isn't a real substitute for a quiet and patient listener. And they are out there.

We are out there.

In theory, it's one small step, even if through the lens of reality it'll look like a giant leap. But this is the first step. And its yours to take.

So take it. Take charge, take control, take that one step.
Find someone to talk to.





Worldwide Directory of Suicide Prevention hotlines, online chat, text-lines, and resources



1 Comment

"Please understand, we wouldn't be saying this if we didn't feel like this is
                what  needs to happen."

                                           "What if I say no?"

                                                                       "We have the ability to force it."

That was just part of the conversation I had with my 10 years old daughter's Therapist and her Psychiatric Doctor's Assistant on the evening of June 29th, 2013. 

It all began with an episode that quickly spiraled out of control and ended up with my daughter, who was diagnosed as Bipolar in 2012, being voluntarily admitted by me, her Mom. 

You know, the one that's suppose to protect her and keep her safe. 

My beautiful, talented, little girl, begged to be taken to the Psychiatric Hospital the evening before.  Although she had never been, she said she needed to go.  I on the other hand was terrified at the thought . All I knew about Psychiatric hospitals was what I saw on TV.  But, after four hours filled with threats of jumping out a window, screaming, crying, running down the street and lastly threatening to hurt her sibling, we made the trip.  Five hours later we were sent home, exhausted.

The next day, I was cautiously hopeful the storm had passed as it had before. Standing in the bathroom not 10 feet from my daughter's bedroom, I was coloring my hair.  The grays seemed to be coming faster these days.  I heard a noise, almost a cough, I thought my daughters Acid Reflux was causing her trouble.  She had developed Gastritis  as a result of all the emotions her Bipolar brought her.   That morning she was quiet but remorseful for her episode the night before.

She asked me early that morning , "Are you sure you love me?" 

          I replied,   "Yes, I will always and forever love you."

                      "But, how can you love someone like me?" 
                              "Because, you are my daughter, and you bring me so much joy." 
A few seconds later, she poked her head in the bathroom door.  She looked upset. 

"You are going to be mad at me." 

     "Did you throw up on your bedroom floor again I asked?"

That had happened two nights before because of the acid reflux.

     "No.  I can't tell you what happened."

                                                    "Yes, you can, it's ok." 

My daughter has an amazing support team in her Therapist, Psychiatrist and family.  Her therapist and I both thought she was going through some preteen moodiness.  The weeks prior she had started spending most of her time in her room.  She no longer wanted to hang out with me.  She had to be constantly having a friend over or going to a friends. Being idle, agitated her.  She was still engaging with her friends so we thought it was nothing serious.

Back in the bathroom doorway, my daughter lets her hand drop for her neck and the tears start flowing. 
"I am so sorry Mom,"  is what I hear but, I have tunnel vision, there were angry red marks and what looked like broken blood vessels on her neck. 

     "What happened?"

           She responded, "I tied something around my neck and pulled as hard as I could for as long as I could, then I got scared." 

This couldn't be real.  My beautiful, talented, funny little girl, hurt herself? 

I told her it was ok.  I asked her to put her shoes on, I called my father quickly and said we are coming over.  I didn't know what to do.  I needed time to think but she needed away from the situation. By the time we got to my Dad's 20 minutes later, she was out of the car showing Grandpa her round-off she had been working so hard on.  I was confused.  I called her docs office they said bring her in at 4:00.

4:15... please understand we wouldn't be saying than if we didn't feel like this is what needs to happen.  My daughter had just told her Therapist that she had a plan to kill herself, that she would hurt her brother, that she didn't feel safe going home because of what she might do.  She told them she wanted to go to the hospital.  Imagine...being 10 and knowing, you needed to be someplace to keep those around you safe. 
My daughter spent 4 days in the hospital.  I visited her every day, twice a day for the hour that they allowed.  One of the most powerful moments for me was when she was admitted and was on the other side of the glass door about to go to her room,  she mouthed to me,

     "I am so sorry for doing this to you."  

She knew she needed to be there and was more worried about how I would be. 
We now have a safety plan posted in a few places in our house that lists the things she can't do, such as hurt herself or anyone else or to be in her room with her door closed.  It also lists what she can do, call a family member, listen to music, and call the Crisis hotline.  We have a plan.  It's been two months and she is doing really well. 

     When I asked her why she tied the scarf around her neck, she said
                                                                            “to get rid of the pain in my mind."
She is fragile and moody at times.  But, she isn't her Bipolar, or her attempt at hurting herself. She is the bravest and strongest person I know. The changes tell us when our loved one is hurting.  Our loved ones sometimes tell us when they are hurting.  And me, her Mom, I was reminded by someone that I did protect her and keep her safe, because I was willing and strong enough to let her be admitted and cared for by people that had the skill to and ability to monitor her every moment until she was better.  But, it was the hardest thing I ever had to do.
During this Suicide Prevention Week, I ask that you watch closely.
I was only ten feet away. 
That you love those with mental health issues. And most of all, remind yourself that as a family member or friend, you have the strength and obligation to support and love someone that is struggling. 

To those that read this and are struggling, you are loved and you can be strong and you will feel better, if you ask for help.

~A Proud Mom



Worldwide Directory of Suicide Prevention hotlines, online chat, text-lines, and resources