We're supposed to follow a certain narrative when our partners leave us. What happens when we flip the playbook?
Essay
A mirthful reaction masks an experience that's much closer to facing your own mortality.
Covering mirrors while in mourning has a curious ambivalence: both ritual and superstition, a way of honoring the dead and warding them off, a vow that hides within the fear of something going wrong.
At 36, I was diagnosed with a brain tumour while overworked in the unstable world of academia—sometimes when systems fail, they fail all at once.
I was excited to exist as a non-religious writer, free of the idea that my words might “save” someone. Which is why I was surprised when, recently, I realized I was acting like a religious person.
Existential collapse is often treated as the domain of men coming face to face with their mortality. For me and other women, our crisis wasn't how much life was left, but how much of it we gave away.
We attribute divine inspiration to madness, but escaping the cycle of mania for the comfort of a calmer mind doesn't mean abandoning artistic greatness.
When you grow up eating alone, sometimes a terrible dinner is all you can ask for.
My grandfather was gone before he died. Even when I dream about him, I can't bring the real Bob back.
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