I was agitated by the sensation that saying yes to everything and no to nothing, rising to the occasion, going above and beyond, was supposed to be the worthiest thing about me.
It’s a strange sort of self-reliance, thinking you can out-plan the grief, and heartbreak, and confusion of growing up.
New responsibilities clogged up phone lines and changed what used to be lifelines—how were we supposed to maintain our relationships?
I wanted to be a writer, and I thought my work-life balance was the price I had to pay. I couldn't have been more wrong.
It was the first time I’d ever noticed growth or newness this way: reclaiming, or returning, rather than overhauling and chasing.
Why do we need measuring sticks like college and marriage and leaving home to track our worth?