In my prior life, I was a practicing mental health therapist. I maintain my license, though I no longer provide counseling. In hindsight, I see my academic pursuit in psychology as an attempt to understand myself: my dysfunctional childhood, eating disorder, my self-hatred. I thought I could fix myself — faaaaar from. I was a skilled clinician, but the work was too heavy for my anxious personality. After twelve years filled with self-doubt (because I don't do well in grey areas), I surrendered and left the career I worked so hard for.
I’ve never been happier.
It’s vulnerable and honest…
This Valentine’s Day marks my three-year “adopt-a-versary” with Millie. It was the worst Valentine’s Day of my life.
I adopted Millie too soon after my soul dog, Tovi, died, naively thinking that getting another dog would make my insurmountable pain disappear — as if relationships could just transfer. I was wrong. So wrong. If I thought my grief was bad then, it only worsened as I grieved my dog's loss, and the reality that my impulsivity had once again landed me in a bad situation.
I literally chose the first dog I saw at the shelter. In fact, I hadn’t…
More than I should, I find my mind wandering to that dangerous area where I think about how much easier my life would be without Millie (my dog). I know how terrible this sounds, but it’s my truth. Isn’t dog ownership meant to enhance our lives? Aren’t we supposed to have these carefree, loving, fun relationships with our dogs like we see in the movies?
Apparently, not always.
If we were in a relationship, upon breaking up, I would cry and tell Millie it’s me, not her. And it is 100% me. She is who she is, and it’s me…
Getting separate beds may have been the best thing that ever happened to our marriage — on a daily basis level, obviously.
After getting married, two light sleepers trying to navigate different wake times proved challenging — really challenging. A few days a week, my alarm went off at 4:30 a.m., and despite lying my gym clothes out the night before as not to shuffle through the drawers while Jared slept, the ever so gentle sound of stepping out of bed would wake him, and if it didn't, our dog — assuming it was time to get up — did…
It takes a lot to make me feel palpably angry, but yesterday, I went there. I wrote a piece on, essentially, food neutrality by bringing diet culture to light, and it was rejected. I am no stranger to rejections, so that isn’t what infuriated me. What did was the underlying message of why it was rejected.
The rejection consisted of, “We’re gonna pass on this one unfortunately, as those food related articles haven’t worked well for (publication name).”
That very day, two of the featured articles on their page were not only “food-related” but had a fatphobic feel as they…
“Take a girl like me to the Deep South but I WILL find a juice bar. And almond milk.”
These words were written on Facebook by one of my friends during a visit to New Orleans, a city known for its cuisine. It brought up a lot of anger for me, not directed toward her, but toward the diet culture we live in, one of which I was once part of it. And if I’m being honest, I still am to some degree.
I traveled to New Orleans four years ago and did the same thing, so maybe reading it…
According to DSM -IV, Seasonal Affective Disorder, otherwise known as “SAD” (the irony), is a specifier of a larger mental health diagnosis such as Depression or Bi-Polar Disorder. The defining feature is a seasonal pattern of depression that begins, typically begins in fall → winter, and goes into remission when the season changes.
SAD results from a combination of changes in serotonin and melatonin levels, paired with seasonal changes: lack of sun, shorter days, and spending more time indoors. For many, it's the perfect storm.
Like really sad.
I don’t have a true SAD diagnosis, as SAD cannot be accounted…
As a new writer, much of the advice I read speaks to writing needing a universal takeaway. “No one wants to read your journal entry,” they say. I see the value in that perspective, and it has helped me refine my writing, but today…well, no.
My #1 rule for writing: Follow inspiration where it leads, even when it’s unknown territory, and even if no one cares.
There is something beautiful about being shown a glimpse into someone’s story. In a world focused on outer appearances, it is an honor to be privy to someone’s insides. …
Like so many of us, I am deeply entrenched in the numbers game. You wouldn't believe the amount of times throughout the day I find my finger unconsciously gravitating toward the Medium app to see how many views I’ve received in the past 30 minutes. Mind you, that number may change by 10— if that — during the course of a good day, so there’s little fluctuation to watch. Still, I’m addicted.
Frantically tracking the numbers is adding no value to my writing. I would go so far as to say it is taking away from the reason I write.
Therapist → writer. Writing about pets, body image, self, and other reflections. Always written with vulnerability and authenticity