A few months ago, I realized I’d developed a rather committed relationship with the New York Times crossword. And actually, it wasn’t just the crossword. There were the other games (except Spelling Bee…who even plays that?) and, of course, the news. 

A year ago I realized I was depressed. I had only been depressed—clinically depressed—once before in my life. In my first trimester of pregnancy, I went on Zoloft—and a few weeks later I was finally able to get out of bed, go back to work, and make it through the next seven months. Because I knew my body believes that hormonal changes are NOT my friend, I figured this depression was “the change.”

We’ve internalized the idea that before we can pursue our art (art is defined here as anything that makes your soul sing), we must first be financially useful to the world. That our creativity is only valid once we’ve earned the right to indulge in it.

Dear Ma. Dear Esther.

I want to tell you both something. In writing. Because it matters. 

When I look back at my first positive influences around the written word and the English language, the first person who comes to mind is you, Mom. You, who taught your children that through reading we could learn anything, escape anywhere, and be anyone.

I’ve been thinking about roles a lot lately. Not the roles I play, but the ones that others play in my life.

Who does what in the movie of my life? Who do I turn to during an emotionally trying time? Who is my wingman when I want to try something new? Who is there to hold my secrets? To laugh with me? Who would help me bury a body?

Let’s do a little experiment. 

Welcome to the Befriend Your Brain interview series. In this episode we explore going at it alone, smashing the patriarchy, and cognitive dissonance (or as I like to call it, living in the messy).

I conducted this interview with Lizzy Atwood Wills, founder and CEO of Meridian Boutique Travel (aka MBT)

I have three goals right now. One has to do with working out. One has to do with writing. And one has to do with studying language. 

The working out one is going swimmingly. Three weeks in and I have not missed my goal. The language one is going ok. I’m hit and miss. But the writing one. Hot damn. You would think writing was not one of my favorite things to do.

Details in this story changed to protect the innocent and the guilty. Just kidding, I changed them because there is confidentiality privilege in coaching, duh.

I got this text from a client today:

My friend Blair, all the way over in New Zealand, was talking to her husband the other day. He is also all the way over in New Zealand, conveniently enough. She was complaining about work - the pressure, the stress, the hours, the never endingness of it - the general bullshit of it all.

Here's a story about a girl who was told she could do anything she wanted to do.

It goes like this.

Once upon a time, D was born in the U.S.--just outside Philadelphia.

I have this theory that we are all meant to be a certain age.

It goes like this.

When you are born (actually probably before you were born to be honest), you have an age range or a phase of life that is perfectly aligned with you. A Golden Age, you might say. Let's be clear, I don't mean

It all begins with an idea.

It all begins with an idea.

It all begins with an idea.