During my pregnancy many of my friends remarked, some with more sensitivity than others, on the likelihood that I would successfully date again now that I had baggage. Their words, not mine.
I suppose many of them considered their own dysfunctional Tinder journeys and calculated that it was difficult enough dating while “normal,” let alone having some remarkable circumstance attached to you, like a child.
It’s important to remember for context that most of my network was made up of young millennial professionals living in Tier 1 cities. …
Lately I’ve been having these recurring dreams.
In one of them, I lose control of my car. I’m driving down the road and suddenly the brakes go out and I can’t stop. Or I’ll be getting off an exit and I can’t slow down, the car keeps speeding up, the steering wheel isn’t turning, and all I can do is try and make a plan for a soft crash to stop the vehicle.
In the other dream, I’m at a house on the beach. It’s one of those shingled Americana-style homes, a flag out front, rocking chairs on the porch…
I’ve got the morning sickness blues. It started around 6 weeks. The vomiting, exhaustion, and headaches. At first, I was still able to take my dog for a walk, pick up my toddler from daycare, and do bath and bedtime with her, but as the weeks wore on, I watched my daily activities recede one by one.
Some days I couldn’t get out of bed or up off the sofa — I was comatose with nausea. At night, I’d wake up and run to the bathroom, barely making it in time before I got sick again. …
Unless you were living under a rock these past several months, you would’ve been privy to the toxic tribalism that has become the hallmark of American politics. And all politics, really. What stood out to me most was how much those around me identified with their political parties.
I AM a Republican.
I AM a Democrat.
Well, perhaps you tend to agree with Republican policies over Democratic policies 53% of the time, but you ARE a Republican? Or you ARE a Democrat?
If you stop and think about it, it sounds absurd, doesn’t it?
The “Me” vs The…
When I was young, my teacher shared that her cat had just had a litter of kittens and asked if any of us would like one. Without a moment’s hesitation, I jumped up and shouted,
My teacher instructed me to confirm with my parents that it was OK, after which she would bring the kitten to school for me.
That evening, I told my parents about the kittens and asked for their blessing to bring one home. My stepfather said unequivocally,
Mother was silent.
The next day I went to school and confirmed with my teacher, “Yes, my…
It may have all started with Steve Jobs. In his Stanford commencement speech, in reference to his own success as blueprint, Steve Job famously said “…you’ve got to find what you love.”
I can only speak for myself when I say upon hearing that, I looked around at my life and thought,
The millennial career-guidance narrative has been dominated by the idea that to achieve meaning/joy/success in our careers, we should focus on figuring out what we love, what we’re passionate about, and then pursue that with intensity.
I’d like to reframe that conversation and encourage people to…
Many of you know that I was based in London when I was pregnant with and gave birth to Olivia. Despite some of the hardships that came with that, in many ways it was fortuitous because of both the free quality healthcare, as well as the one year maternity leave, half of which was at my full salary.
When Olivia was 12 weeks old, she was still waking up at night, only breastfeeding, refusing to take a bottle, and perhaps it goes without saying, completely dependent on me. …
When I was a little girl, my grandmother used to take me with her to visit my great-grandmother. Always an old soul, I looked forward to spending time chatting with the two of them, listening to stories of my great-grandpa and what life was like for my grandmother when she was a little girl. Inevitably, I’d start going through the boxes of old photographs that my great-grandmother had stashed away in her drawers in an attempt to recreate the past. I’d ask great-grandma about the people in the photographs and whenever there were holes in the narrative, I’d make up…
I took the Tube to work one morning during rush hour somewhere around 30 weeks. This was at a time in my pregnancy when I had been struggling quite a bit.
That particular morning was not unlike any other and when the train pulled into the station at Canary Wharf, the doors opened, and a familiar swarm of men in suits filled the platform, with everyone making their way towards the escalator. I assumed my place in the crowd, just one of many, and headed for the escalator too.
On the way up, I was surrounded by people chumming it…
“Gdansk to Olsztyn, please.” I indicated to the woman sitting behind the ticket window. I’d been wandering around the station for the last several hours, waiting for the next train and also waiting for the ticket line to die down so I wouldn’t have to stand in line for so long.
“I’m sorry, first class is all sold out.”
“I’ll take any class.”
“The only tickets left are standing.”
Standing? I thought about the journey: 2.5 hours across the Polish countryside standing? I tried and failed to imagine a more miserable circumstance…
“I’m sorry, are you sure there isn’t anything…
Interested in reading and writing about personal stories. Opinions and observations are my own.