After nine years together, having a child, and watching our sex life falter a bit amidst attachment parenting, professional turbulence, marital ennui, and the effects of aging, my hubby and I have been thinking about trying something new, either in the bedroom - or out of it.

A few weeks back I was gifted a psychic reading. I’m always a bit nervous before these calls. What will she tell me? Will her voice get deeper and more mysterious as she says that I am going to choke on a Teddy Graham on a random Tuesday night while watching Glee? My mind goes crazy for a moment. Will the invariably hot ambulance drivers come to pick up my body and see the skin of my throat stretched over those little brown sugar legs? It’s terrifying really.

My reading lasted about an hour and, more than once, I had to stop pacing and sit down because of the knowledge this woman had about my life and my thoughts for the future. She was just dead-on (no pun intended). And, to my intense relief, this amazingly gifted woman didn’t portend my death at all. No, it was much, much worse.

She told me I was going to get married.

After we hung up the phone I scoffed, snickered, ALMOST choked on my Biscoff biscuit, and then fell to floor laughing and thought, when the state of Texas is turned into a glacial iceberg and the wooly Mammoth makes its return in San Antonio, then I will get married again.

But psychics aren’t called psychics for nothing. In a coincidence to beat all the coincidences in the history of the Universe, I got married today.

To my Self.

Greetings, Pinkies! In honor of Mental Illness Awareness Week and today -- National Depression Screening Awareness Day -- we want to share some insight, bust some myths, and get real about how depression affects us and our loved ones. Jennifer's story about finding the right therapist will no doubt resonate with many of us who have searched, or thought about searching, for that special someone -- ok, the other special someone: the therapist with whom you feel most comfortable and heard. Enjoy -- and many thanks to Jennifer for digging deep and sharing your journey!

When I was in high school, I wanted to see a therapist; I was experiencing massive anxiety about school and relationships and it was affecting my sleep and my eating habits. There were periods when my hands would shake so much it was hard to hold a pencil or fork. But, I knew it was useless to ask my parents about it. They made their thoughts on therapy very clear. The idea of telling a stranger all your secrets went against everything they believed in. According to them, if people know things about you, no matter how mundane, they’ll use this knowledge against you. They’ll judge you. They’ll tell everyone else, and your life will be ruined. You’ll never get into college or get a job or a loan for a car. And, if other people were to know you were going to a therapist, they’d assume the worst, and there would be even more people ruining your life.

Do you ever have those days when you intend to support the love of your life, but then your evil twin shows up and sabotages you? I had one of those days a few weeks ago.