
I know politics feels about as appealing as a root canal performed by a drunk squirrel, but hear me out. When it comes to mental health, the shit our elected officials decide can actually make or break someone’s ability to get help without selling a kidney. (This is George’s cousin Tony, and he’d not DRUNK, but he’s not sober, so he’s willing to give you a small discount)

Now, I’m not here to tell you which team to root for in this political circus. God knows they’re all clowns in different makeup. But here’s the kicker: your vote? It’s like a middle finger to the system that’s been treating mental health like that weird cousin no one talks about at family reunions.

Tonight I want to discuss Mental Health, more specifically Mental Health Deserts. No, I’m not talking about some fancy new dessert trend. I’m talking about places where getting mental health help is about as easy as finding a unicorn riding a bicycle. (In fairness we should have taken that pic before Tony shared his hooch and dared her to ride it. She’s MUCH better sober, on a unicycle)

Picture this: You’re struggling with thoughts darker than your coffee, and the nearest therapist is further away than your ex’s emotional availability. Welcome to the mental health desert, where the only thing more scarce than water is a fucking psychiatrist. Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Just go see a therapist!” Yeah, sure, let me just hop in my private jet and fly to the nearest big city. Oh wait, I can’t, because I’m too busy trying to afford ramen noodles this week.
But here’s the kicker: even if you could find a therapist, good luck affording it. It’s like they think we’re all secretly millionaires hiding our wealth in our pillow fort of depression.
So what’s a mentally fucked up person to do in these barren wastelands of sanity? Well, strap in, because I’ve got some ideas that might just keep you from losing your shit entirely:

- Hotlines and Crisis Text Lines: For when you need someone to talk you off the ledge at 3 AM. They’re like the Uber of mental health – always there, even if you’re in your pajamas.
- Teletherapy: Because sometimes the best therapy happens when you’re not wearing pants. Plus, your therapist can’t judge your messy room if they can’t see it.
- Online Support Groups: Find your tribe of fellow hot messes. Misery loves company, especially when that company understands your specific brand of crazy.
- Community Health Centers: They might not have fancy leather couches, but they do have people who give a shit about your mental health. And sometimes, that’s enough.
Look, I know it’s not perfect. It’s like putting a band-aid on a bullet wound. But it’s something. And sometimes, something is the difference between making it through another day and… well, not.
We need to make some noise about this shit. Call your representatives, scream it from the rooftops, interpretive dance about it in the town square – whatever it takes. Because no one should have to face their demons alone just because they live in the middle of fucking nowhere.

This election season, while you’re drowning in campaign promises that sound about as reliable as my ADHD medication schedule, take a hot second to think about the poor bastards struggling to get help for their brain gremlins. Your vote could be the difference between someone getting the support they need and being told to “just cheer up” for the millionth time.
So, drag your cynical ass to the polls and vote like mental health depends on it. Because, spoiler alert: it fucking does. Your voice matters, even if it feels like screaming into the void. Who knows? You might just accidentally make the world suck a little less.

Remember, you fabulous fucked up fighters, you’re not alone in this battle. Even if it feels like you’re screaming into the void, know that there are people out there who give a damn. And if all else fails, well, there’s always sarcasm and memes. They’re not FDA-approved treatments, but they’re better than nothing. Stay alive, you magnificent messes. The world needs your brand of crazy. . Now go forth and vote, you magnificent messes. If all else fails, at least you’ll get an “I Voted” sticker to slap over that existential dread.
In the near future I’m going to create a form letter that you can easily adapt for your own Senators, Congress people and representatives. It will make it a little easier to get our voices heard. Now go take care of yourself, and each other!





































































